The Xth Loop: Sword & Stilled Time
by ItsaRandomUsername
Summary: Homura Akemi has known failure too many times. But then the impossible occurs, and she finds herself contracted with a former foe - one of the dangerous and enigmatic beings known as a Counter Guardian. Will this man's allyship and limitless stock of swords prove to be just the salve her hopeless quest needs, or will a miracle still not be enough to save what she holds dear?
1. Prologue: The Future in Store?

"Hey there, what's yer name?" the man slurred at her, the stench of alcohol lining his breath and tainting his judgment.

She ignored him.

"Y'know, that's a pretty nice uniform. What school ya go to?" another one asked, further disrupting the peace of the empty diner. He tugged insistently at her school uniform. His face was flush from the booze, and getting far too close.

She ignored him too.

"Heeeyyyy nowwww," the first replied. "Being confeedential? That's cool, that's cOOL. You don't wanna get in trouble, right? How old are you, anyway?"

She knew this was a bad idea. Normally she would avoid dives like this at all costs and opt instead to stay as discreet as possible as she tried her hardest to make each loop work out. Why waste time with these fools? She should just make it stop - make it all stop and go, leaving the drunken idiots gaping like the hammered morons they were when they realized that the target of their desires vanished into thin air.

This is what Homura Akemi thought.

Yet why did she not? Why did Homura put up with them, they who were starting to get far too boisterous for her liking?

Was it all just because he told her that he'd be back soon?

Because it was him?

In order to achieve her goals, the girl had taken it upon herself to kill her emotions. In order to save her, she had turned herself into a cold being, willing to even go so far as to make her cry if it meant preventing her from forming that damnable contract. This was all her decision, and she did not regret it. Homura Akemi did this all for her, for Madoka Kaname.

So if that was the path she had taken, then why hadn't she done what she normally would have done and blown off the men (possibly literally via a .44 if they had been this persistent in the other loops) without a second thought?

"Yo! Where in the hell are yer manners? We're tryin' a talk to ya, and yer ignorin' us? That's rude!" The first one grabbed her shoulder forcefully, much too forcfully.  
>"Hey, when someone talks to you, you better give them the attention they deserve, stupid bitch! Don't they teach you anything in that preppy candy-ass school of yours, Missy?" Flecks of alchol-infused saliva sprayed from his gaping mouth as griped at her, his voice rising to volatile levels.<p>

Without warning the violater's grip was torn away from her shoulder with the distinctive sound of cracking bone by a large, strong hand. The force and momentum was enough to actually send the guy sprawling back onto the table opposite the counter that Homura was sitting at.

A familiar hand.

Homura Akemi's eyes widened ever so slightly.

"Just in case it did not get through your numbskulls the first time, the girl doesn't want anything to do with you." The white-haired newcomer with the eyes like grey steel said, with a voice like a drawn blade.

"What the fuck's your problem, buddy? What are you to her, she your girlfriend or some shit like that?"

The heckler that did not get tossed into the table was downright pissed off. With a capital "P". What gave this man the right to just muscle in like that? Who went and named him Emperor? Regardless, his alcohol-addled mind told him that he did not like this man at all. Not one bit.

"Me? I am her bodyguard, and neither you nor your boyfriend can touch her."

"Oh bullSHIT!" The one who was thrown at the table responded as he picked himself up off of the leftovers from the last customer."You're just muscling in because you're looking for a little action too! You wanna tap that, and you're just doing some hocus-pocus crap with this 'knight in shinining armor' fuckery, you damn hypocrite!"

The heckler was glaring daggers at him. But that was nothing.

The man in black before him glared swords. If only the drunkard knew just how close he was to experiencing a literal example of this, then he would have shut up pronto.

Homura had actually seen him do that before.

"Whatever man, who said you could talk for her?" the other's compatriot said. "She can speak for herself, can't you? C'mon, I know you're not mute." He reached for her once more-

Crack!

"Gyugh-!" his entire arm was suddenly twisted into a postion that it was never meant to be in.

"If you touch the girl one more time, I will break your arm. But then again, I don't think a single arm would be enough for you to get the hint. Might take both arms, maybe even a leg. Oh, and your friend? He'll get his, too..."

That look in the man's eyes was deadly serious. He meant every single word of it, and without a doubt he would follow through if the situation came to that. After all, his "threats" were always "promises" in actuality, especially with her.

"Go on then, give me a good reason, whelp."

"TCH! GUh! Alright, alright! Fine, we'll go, we'll go. EH!" As he gave his answer, the white-haired man shoved the punk away, the way one would toss out the flithy garbage. "Whatever. Yuuno, let's get out of here. THis bitch ain't worth our time."

While stammering out of the restaurant, the one his partner called "Yuuno" pushed the tan-skinned man aggresively, as if to get in the last word as immaturely as possible.

Tense like a drawn bow, that was all he needed to let them know about his feelings towards them.

"Homura-chan?"

"Y-yes?"

She called her that.

"I'm sorry. It was a mistake to leave you alone here like this." He admitted, looking at her with those strong, yet somewhat sad(?) eyes. "Come on, let's go somewhere else."

"Oh. O-okay."

Why...? Why did she sound so meek right now? Was it because she felt like she did back then, like she could be allowed to be Homura Akemi once more? Was that it?

Regardless of the answer, she got up from her seat at the stool and followed her self-proclaimed guardian out of the diner.

Her newfound companion, the man who called himself Archer.

**X****th**

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why did you protect me like that?" Homura asked as she stared into the obscuring steam rising from her ramen, the soup served to her by the street vendor on this dark, late night.

"That's not a problem, is it?" Archer asked as he dipped his chopsticks into the warm noodles and fished out a delectable slice of pork.

"You know what I can do, that I can take care of myself. So why? Why did you do, that?"

Her own chopsticks remained untouched as of yet. Because she had to know, even though hey had been together, been partners for a brief while now, she had to know more about this man.

"Well, it's because of something my father told me, a long time ago." Archer began, idly stirring his ramen as his eyes glazed over with reminiscence, as if gazing upon a distant memory. "He always told me that I need to protect the women in my life, that it's a man's duty to do so. Or something like that..." Archer smiled rather contentedly at that last part of his tale. "The way YOU choose to act, have to act, it doesn't suit you at all. If what I do makes it so that you don't have to be that way, if I can shoulder your burdens, take your responsibilities as my own, then I'll do so."

"Oh? ... Oh, oh!" Homura did not need to think long about what Archer had told her. "Th-thank, thank..." She quickly brought a large wad of the hot noodles to her mouth and went to work chewing on them before she could reply an further. "Mmph!"

Perhaps a little too large...

"Hey now, slow down a little there. You don't want to burn your throat now, do you?" Archer used his napkin to wipe Homura's face, cleaning up any spilt broth before it could stain her uniform. "Take it easy, okay?"

"Eh? Oh? Oh, okay then." The dark hair girl replied, blushing gently from being doted on by her partner. "Uh, about before, is that, is that really the only reason you protected me like that?"

Archer took another bite of ramen, and chewed unhurriedly before answering as thoughtfully as he could. "About that: Actually, a long, long time ago, I had a little sister - a sister that I never knew that I ever had. She was older than me, but that never stopped her from being my little sister. She was so happy and full of life, and she was one of the most precious things to me in the entire world, a person that I loved the most. But then, a year after we had met for the very first time she...she...passed away."

Loss.

Sadness.

...She felt it...

...And so did he...

"I felt guilty about it. Very guilty about it. In retrospect I was entirely blameless, of course, but that did not make me feel any better. Does not make me feel any better about it. I felt as if I had failed her as a hero, somehow, because she died like that. It's baseless, certainly, but you know what? That's the kind of man I was back then." Archer took a long sip of tea from his cup. "Looking back on it, her death must have been what set me down the path I went, the path I regret. If I could get a second chance - if one ever presented itself - I would take it, without a doubt."

A desire to set things right because of some mistake. A mistake cause by noble intentions with disatrous results.

Like what happened to her.

"When I see you, Homura-chan, I see myself, and I see my dearly beloved sister. How can I not want to take care of that? Take care of you, her, and me?"

"Archer..."

What he said, resonated with her deeply.

"You want to help her, your friend, right? Then please let me do my best for you, for both of our sakes. After all..." Determination turns to a rougish grin, the kind that women fall for. He was going to do that again, wasn't he? "...I want to help love along as much as the next guy."

He did.

"A-Archer!" Homura Akemi, for the first time in a long time, and yet having it happen rather recently as of late to her, became flabbergasted.

"I'm confident that your friend Madoka will appreciate all of your efforts. When she sees what you've been doing for her, I'm absolutely certain that she'll be willing to accept your love."

"Archerrrrr!...D-don't say it like that! Why do you do this? It makes me feel embarassed..."

"I do this because you have such cute reactions when I tease you like this."

"Buuuu..." Homura stared at him with those baleful eyes, glossed over with unshed tears; groaned in response to him in a way that could be described with only one word:  
>CUTE.<p>

"There there, I'm just playing around. You know that much." Archer smiled gently and patted her head re-assuringly, like the way a brother would comfort a little sister.

"Can you let me make it up to you?" She nods shyly, her face still tinged with pink. "Hey, Cook? Could we have some tempura on the side?"

"Right away, sir!"

Very much the way a brother would comfort a little sister.

**X****th**

As he finally went to get settled down for the night, Archer took note of the bed in the modest hotel room.

Homura had fallen asleep on top of the bed without even changing or covering up.

He could not blame her. It was a late night, after all.

Quietly as a mouse, Archer made his way on over to her and laid down a thick and warm blanket on top of her. He took care to tuck her in, as snug and comfortably as possible. It was times like these that all those times he himself had tucked Illya in would really pay off - not that she ever really slept by herself most of the time. More often than not, Illya would crawl into his futon while he was sound asleep and grip him like a koala, happier with nothing more than being with her dear brother.

Asleep like this, Homura looked so calm, so peaceful, just like his sister had way back in those happy bygone days of old.

Times like these made him sad, and happy.

Oh, how if he could only go back and set it all right, then maybe the path of the Counter Guardian would not be his fate...

...but with Homura at his side - the girl he wants, needs to protect from the treacheries and dangers of the Witches and Incubator, he was a little more certain that maybe he could succeed. That they could succeed. That he could get his second chance with his friends, with his sister, with his lover.

With thoughts like these in his head, Archer drifted to sleep on the sofa, allowing Homura the entirety of the queen-sized bed.

...

Archer awoke in the middle of the night from where he had fallen asleep on the sofa. This was not unusual. After all, even as a teenager bouts of restlessness would hit him until he went into his shed, his sanctuary and continued on from there.

Boy, did he miss his shed now more than ever before.

However, his mind did not linger on thoughts of his beloved "workshop" for long. The reason for this, was lying asleep on top of him and snoring cutely.

"Homura-chan...?"

The girl was fast asleep, and would not be awaken by a whisper like that. Yet, something within her responded to her name being called out quietly, and she answers that by cuddling even closer to the man she sought.

"...nyeh...uhhh...Archer...zzz"

"..."

Archer sighed, resigning himself to this new development. Being put into such a situation like the one before him, there was only one way to deal with this...

With his strong, corded arms - arms far too used to taking life - Emiya Shirou wrapped the girl snuggled on top of him in a tight, kind hug and fell asleep like that until dawn broke.

Exactly like what he had done back when he was alive.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue:<strong>  
><strong>The Future in Store?<strong>

* * *

><p>AN:

This one gained some notoriety elsewhere on the internet, so I figured I should post it here too.


	2. Chapter I: Unfamiliar

**-Chapter I -**

**Unfamiliar **

* * *

><p>Failure. It was a concept that Homura Akemi was intimately familiar with. Much too intimately familiar.<p>

Walpurgisnacht.

Kriemhild Gretchen.

One begets the other. The arrival of the former induces _that_ to happen - the fulfillment of _that_ wish, the establishment of _that_contract.

Familiar. All too familiar.

How many times had it been? How many times had she suffered the tastes of defeat, of hopeless inevitability - of _failure_? They were numerous, nigh countless.

And they were all failures.

* * *

><p><strong>~'\|/'\~**

The Witch desired her 'heaven'. Her 'heaven' was something that she wanted to share with everyone, because if it is her 'heaven' it must be a good thing, because it is **hers**. If, maybe, perhaps, she could take all of the grief in the world and feast upon it, then there would be none left...and that...was a good thing...right? Yes, because it is her 'heaven', then everyone would be happy in it, right?

But the world already existed...how could she achieve her heaven' when it was already there? in order for her 'heaven'to exist, she must take everyone into it.

That's okay, they'll love her 'heaven! She was sure of it! They would be happy, and there would be no more suffering and despair, and they would be happy, and no one would get hurt anymore, and they would be happy, and no one would shed tears for whatever reason anymore, and they would be happy,

and they would be happy, and they would be happy...

Because it was her 'heaven'.

**~/'\|/'\~**

* * *

><p>She stood impassively amongst the ruins, the ankle deep waste-water soaking her tights and shoes. The gears in the shield on her arm whirred idly, ready to once again reknew the cycle of despair in yet another attempt to set things right. Just as she had always done when her big gamble came through, she was ready to leave and try once more, ready to abandon this loop just like the rest.<p>

But...

Perhaps there was something to be gained. From each and every other failed timeline she had gained a little more knowledge - a little more experience, a little more _something_, anything that she could use to aid herself in her endless crusade, previous failures notwithstanding.

In order to do this, to fulfill her wish and achieve happiness and avoid the despair that was fated to be...She would subject herself to a burden the likes of which none other had ever known, even in comparison to feeling the heavy and full weight of all of her other mistakes.

Homura Akemi decided to bear witness to the end of the world, and the birth of her 'heaven'.

It was surreal, indescribable, fantastic - surely, this thing that used to be Madoka Kaname was to Witches what God was to humans. A being of incomparable, incomprehensible power, there was little doubt that at the rate it was going it would most certainly achieve her heaven'.

Time was meaningless. Inconsequential. Whether it took minutes, seconds, hours or days, her 'heaven' began to spread throughout the world, ready to bring all to her promised salvation. Surely it would be beautiful, sad, happy, pristine, and perfect. Because it was supposed to be her 'heaven', right?

If it were allowed to manifest, that is.

Streams of blazing objects soared towards the most powerful Witch in existence, piercing into its aether and exploding with achaic power. Pillars of purest energy swung like a massive sword slammed into the mountainous Kriemhild Gretchen over and over again. Waves of magic buffeted its sides, and the howls of inhuman beasts echoed in the distance of the ruins.

The massive Witch was fighting...fighting with those that would oppose her 'heaven'.

Figures leapt and dashed around the one that had surpassed the Walpurgisnacht, their godlike strength tangible even from the far distance away from them that she was. But she detected no passion from the strike team, no burning desire or determination to serve as executioners for her former best friend. She could tell, they were cold, emotionless. It was as if they were _programmed, programmed_for exactly just such an act.

Were they other Puella Magi, teaming up to take down the largest threat to life ever known?

No.

They were something beyond even that. They were gods amongst the ruins, gods sent to battle a god.

They were like the stuff of legends.

And they were an anomaly, the biggest one that she had known in all of her repeats.

It was curious. How could she explain their appearance? Was it perhaps because she waited far longer than she normally did after she failed, and that this was simply meant to be? Or was it because the nature of Madoka Kaname's wish itself had changed?

All so curious.

Suddenly, a bolt of light barreled from a great distance towards her. It was fast. Too fast! Impossibly fast - faster than even godspeed itself - and much too close to her for her liking, the streak cut through the air and seemed to warp the very space around it.

Instincts honed by years of timetravel-derived experience brought her into action faster than even her own mind could process it. An instant became eternity as the gears in the shield on her arm spun wildly. Homura Akemi willed reality to come to a halt - and time had stopped. The air had stilled, the downpour of rain froze in place.

A Puella Magi grows used to dealing with the impossible wonders and phantasmal nature of magic on a regular basis. And yet in spite of this exposure to these miracles, Homura Akemi's eyes widened with shock...and _fear._

Her magic was surely activated, and yet the projectile still flew forward. It was by no means unaffected by her power, and it flew as if passing through a watery wall. The current speed almost belied its true nature - in spite of appearances the missile was by no means any less deadly than it was before, and was still brimming with magical energy to the point of being volatile.

Even with her ability, she would still need to dodge it.

The searing explosion of burning magic was greater than she had anticipated. Even with her magic, she underestimated the sheer size and output of the blast that the drill-shaped object would have when it detonated after she shut off her magic. Even though she removed herself far from the impact zone, the force was still enough to catch her on the fringes, throwing her from the blast like a rag doll and causing her schoolgirl-like costume to smoke with burns.

Another distant twang, another thunderous roar. The very next moment a second arrow - for this one and the one before were both indeed arrows of a sort - aimed right at her. This arrow was different from the one before; it was visibly slower than its precursor, but was no less dangerous.

Homura Akemi took to the sky. If this projectile was anything like the first one then she did not want to be anywhere near it when it unleashed its magical payload, and she meant to avoid the shot entirely.

Just as she evaded into the air the arrow altered its course and went right for her, as if it were responding to her actions.

The new arrow was a seeker.

Twists. Turns. Rolls. Brakes. The arrow twisted and spun at her in response to each of her movements. Like a game of aerial tag, the dogfight continued as she threw out every single maunever that she knew in order to shake it off and the weapon unerringly trailed her with the sole purpose of taking down the girl from the sky.

In less than the blink of an eye the tables were turned. In less than an instant she flanked the glowing arrow and had shot it down with a concentrated burst of machinegun fire that tore it apart in a blast of magical energy.

Having finally adjusted to the flow of battle past the initial surprise, without skipping a beat she discerned the location of the enemy sniper.

_...there!_

Experts will vouch that in a professional battlefield it takes a remarkable amount of skill to succesfully countersnipe an enemy that is actively trying to gun at you from a distance as well.

However, Homura Akemi had all the time in the world.

Stop. Start.

Each .50 caliber slug fired from the Barret M107 sniper rifle brutally slammed into the red-cloaked figure. Legs, arms, crotch, throat and thorax - and each bullet squarely hit the mark, and each impact was either fatal or incapacitating.

But a subordinate of the will of humanity was made of far sterner stuff than what a few Puella Magi-enhanced rounds were capable of. By grace of the contract it had taken up, a warrior of the World would not be allowed to go down that easily.

The red-cloaked figure's attempt to counter the gunshots was answered with a series of thunderous explosions. A single step forward, and the figure ended up right into the middle of a field of claymores mines. Clouds of oversized pellets tore into his body - one, twice, six times! Combat knives of all sizes dug into him from all angles, and an entire clip from a M32 Mikor MGL was expelled right at him, continuing to obscure his battered form in ash and smoke.

Hovering above the billowing pillar of debris with the grenade launcher in her hands she waited for the next move, anticipated. After all, things rarely ended up the way they were supposed to be, and no one knew this better than Homura Akemi did.

With cracks like gunshots a swarm of swords shot towards her from the smoke. But she was prepared. The numerous swords flew at her high, so the girl dropped some height in order to dodge the attack.

Just the way the guardian wanted.

No sooner had she done that did whirring twin flashes of ebony and ivory carve deeply into her sides. The injuries were sudden, brief, and intense - enough for her to lose concentration enough to fall to the soaked rubble with an almost sickening crunch.

She lifted herself up from the wet puddle of red that was pooling beneath her. The body of a Puella Magi would not be allowed to die that easily.

The clashing din of battles not their own rang in the distance. Kriemhild Gretchen soundlessly roared in questioning defiance as the other beings continued to attack.

For the briefest fractions of a second, they stared down the other.

Both man and girl had sustained several injuries. His outfit was torn in many places, ripped by shrapnel. Daggers large and small were still embedded in his shoulders, chest and sides. Her own clothing was blackened in several places, still warm from the release of heat when that strange arrow had exploded, and large gashes on the left and right above her hips bled profusely.

_Drip._

_Drip. _

_Drip._

Purposeless blood - vestigal reminders of their past lives long ago back when their bodies were simple flesh. Back when the crimson fluid used to be an indicator of life, as opposed to serving no other purpose than to merely exist and fill a void, to imitate the true life of a human being.

Their blood was the same. Red

For the briefest fractions of a second, they continued to stare down each other. The silver-haired tall figure garbed in a mantle of vermillion and shadow. The petite young girl with the long dark hair.

Their eyes were the same. Weary.

After an eternity compressed to an instant, their battle resumed once more.

The FN-P90s in her hands angrily spat molten lead in the direction of her foe. A rain of steel from his side flew at her going at speeds comparable to that of modern-day rifles. Flicks of his wrists, movements capable of dodging bullets after they were fired - deflected away any stray gunshots. Her own contstant movement kept her out of the way of the oncoming storm of metal which would have no doubt eviscerated her where she stood. Sidestepping and trying to flank the other, claim the advantage, the most decisive one the fight could offer, and seize it. That was the way they were dueling.

And there was sharpened steel each time she tried to move. Every moment there would be more swords. All she was forced to do was avoid being skewered by those many blades, those endless weapons streaming at her whenever they came into existence.

"At the rate things are going right now, even Kriemhild Gretchen's Revelations that she wants to offer to the World would even be put to the sidelines for an event such as this." The one known as Kyubey mused while as he bore witness to the events before him. "Is this _the_chance that has finally come for you, Homura Akemi, or is this just another failure in a long list of losses? Regardless..." 'he' tilted his head back whimsically as he resumed to watch the conflict between the girl and the man, "The consequences of these actions shall prove to be most interesting."

The swords continued to pour down, like silver and golden bullets of sharpened steel. The pair of falchions with the Chinese motif he held in his hands swung with the sole intention of killing calmly, deliberately, with mechanical ease.

Swords vs. Guns.

Guns vs. Swords.

Brutal, unrefined weapons completely unbefitting of one known as a Magical Girl. The cold, harsh, distant nature of firearms added to that allure. Yet those swords of his were also unbefitting of the man. They were elegant-looking, yet somehow empty-feeling. But regardless of their methods, both were far too used to taking life and struggling endlessly in order to care for critcism of their methods. Their tools were their own, and they got the job done no matter how detestable or frowned-upon it was.

As the duel continued the girl would warp away for the briefest of instants, either attempting to slash out his throat or have grenades periodically detonate right in the face of the man. His swords were always there for him a split-second later, appearing and disappearing to deflect the impact.

A flash of dark and light, and the twin-blades he wielded flew towards her like boomerangs.

* * *

><p><em>Divine Skill, flawless and firm...<em>

-strange words come to her mind-

* * *

><p>The whirring swords struck an imposing image of oncoming death. But they were easily avoided and she rolls right out of their path.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Strength moves mountains<em>

-they continue to play out in her head, heard and yet unheard to her mind-

* * *

><p>A different pair of black and white scythed through the air for the girl. Again, these were nowhere near as fast as the bullet-like blades that he was firing at her all this time. They were just as easily sidestepped.<p>

Again and Again and Again. Darkened metal and its polar opposite would reappear in his hands, ready to slice at her.

* * *

><p><em>Blade cuts water<em>

-they fortell something-  
>-they fortell: her fate-<p>

* * *

><p>Something however, was indeed amiss. Her soldier's intuition screamed at her from deep within that something was indeed very wrong-<p>

* * *

><p><em>Life approaches the Imperial.<em>

-Something fatal.

* * *

><p>That was when it hit her like a steamroller from the heavens.<p>

She was flanked on all sides. Whirring blades spun 'round and 'round like litle planets, orbiting her, ready to slice and tear through muscle and bone. Before she knew it, she was completely encircled, trapped in the eye of a storm of steel.

Time stopped once more. However...her gambit did not come through. Even when paused, there were simply too many surrounding her - the spinning swords left no openings, no space to escape from before the blades closed in and shredded her to pieces.

From the maelstrom of tempered steel the red blur that she was fighting rushed for her with deliberated intent...intent to kill.

A sword - scarlet as the blood it had spilt countless times - with a handle as long as it's blade appeared in his hand. The curse of death emmanating from it was so tangible that it nauseated her just to look at her. The sword welled, pulsed, throbbed with a force that burnt the falling raindroplets into steam.

When the sinister looking sword at finally filled to the brim with power, the man thrust the impossibly sharp tip at at her with all of his might like a duelist's rapier -  
>-or a <em>spear.<em>

The curse was unleashed! - The blade bent, nimbly snuck past the spinning swords and turned around at impossible angles to get to her.

Her submachine guns clattered harmlessly when she dropped them, when she was lifted off the ground by the force of the blow. The crimson blade shafted into her chest, snuck in-between her ribcage and violently ruptured into her heart, making it virutally explode from the impact. Homura Akemi felt pain. Even with the resilience provided to her by her inhuman body, Homura Akemi felt pain like absolutely none other she had ever felt before. Tears streamed down from her eyes in silent pain, the pain that made her feel like a helpless young girl once more.

And she was still alive.

Cause and effect were reversed. Her death was guaranteed to happen, because her heart was already pierced before the blade even made contact. Because this was not just a sword that unerringly sought death when its power was called upon. It was because that as soon as this sword was used death was surely guaranteed.

While crimson bile that she had vomited up upon impact dribbled down her chin, she realized it: the other swords that had trapped her had no other purpose than that. They were not meant to shred her into ribbons where she stood, but rather hold her in place so that this trump card of sorts could be used against her while she was pinned.

Forcing her still and utilizing an attack that was a sure-fire hit. This _man_had taken no chances.

A jarring force shook her entire body as she was skewered on the vermillion sword that had once again drunk of blood, and Homura Akemi was slammed into the ground with unforgiving force. She let out a breathy gasp of pain as the impaling hardness sliced through her body into the wet rubble beneath. Through her tear-fogged eyes she saw the man that pinned her down stare at her with utmost unfeeling, totally remorseless, his gaze betraying absolutely no sympathy whatsoever.

He lifted his left arm so that it was parallel to the bloody, soaked ground. Power once again coalseced in his open palm. One flash of power a moment later, he held in his hand an absolutely gargantuan sword with jagged teeth on the edge, looking for all the world like it must have been carved from a single grey boulder. He methodically, effortlessly began to lift the massive sword above his head. She had no idea how on Earth he held such a hefty weight with one arm, but she certainly knew one thing - he was preparing to mercilessly bash her into a bloody mush. No matter how many blows it would take, he would keep on doing swinging that sharpened slate until she finally died for certain. If she had to be reduced to a pulp before her Soul Gem was shattered by his actions, then that is what it would take.

She would die. This time, she really would die.

It never even occured to her that he hadn't spoken a single word to her throughtout their entire fight.

Kriemhild Gretchen roared in the night.

The rain pattered on the hunks of asphalt, concrete, and exposed foundations of the ruined buildings.

Incubator wryly watched from the corner of his eye, thoroughly interested in the outcome of recent events.

Gritting her teeth and mustering all of her strength Homura Akemi feebly raised her arm, pointing it upwards - towards he enemy, towards the falling rain, towards the sky, towards infinity.

The clublike sword swung downwards like a bolt of judgment.

The next instant she awoke in her hospital bed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Sure is Jojo's Bizarre Adventure up in here.**


	3. Chapter II: Familiar

**-Chapter II -**

** Familiar- **

* * *

><p>In contrast to the relatively gentle - or at the very least, consistent - waking that she normally experienced when re-setting a time loop, Homura Akemi bolted awake with a start. As per usual, she was lying in her hospital cot, just like every other single time before. It was the same, familiar bed. In the same, familiar room, with the same familiar view. And that same familiar ceiling. But just like that last timeline, in spite of the undeniable familiarity of her surroundings, something felt ... amiss. Terribly amiss.<p>

That's what the phantom pains and aches, those reminders of distant combat, still fresh in her mind, told her.

Exercising utmost caution (while at the same time attempting to preserve her modesty should an unexpected healthcare worker walk in on her unannouced during her state of undress with an undeniably girlish amount of concern - possibly a vestigal remainder of her life pre-Puella Magi), Homura Akemi slowly and carefully lifed up her shirt. As she methodically inspected herself, she noted that yes, it was indeed all the same. It was the same as it always was, just like every other time, almost as if the strange events that had happened before were all part of a strange, horrendous dream.

But the large, almost grotesque scar located between her slightly budding breasts testified otherwise.

What had happened had been real, real as anything could be.

What could possibly hurt her like this? What could possibly harm a Puella Magi like this and leave such a mark, leave a memento as grisly as this on a body like hers which supposedly healed from all wounds?

Her thoughts flashed to prior events, to that living nightmare that was not a dream. Even now, she could still feel the burning pain of _that_sword as it bit into her flesh, shattered bone, drove through her heart, and sliced away her life in a single blow.

Oh how she _felt_it.

She shook her head as her memory recalled the mental image of that figure to her mind's eye, such a cold and impassive and ruthless being, the one that had done that to her. The one who had undoubtedly left that mark. That scar on her chest was his doing. Somehow, for whatever reason, somehow he was able to do _this_to her.

An unknown facet like that amidst a flood of familiarity...such a prospect she found frightening. For even though she was now something beyond what a normal girl could ever be, no matter how much she buried herself in her shell, she was still at her core a human. And humans feared the unknown more than anything else in this world.

Homura Akemi shook her head dismissively as she put those thoughts out of her mind. The scar was hidden from sight once more as she slid her shirt back down.

This was nothing if not foolish. There was no logical reason for her to dwell on matters like this. What had happened - that was the past, and this was the present. She would not be tied down by her past, she would not be tied down by any past at all. All that mattered was that she learned from it, so that one day at the end of her long, bitter road she might succeed.

But what _did_ she learn from that loop? What sort of useful information could have possibly been gleaned from _that_end?

Not even one as experienced as her had the answer to that.

The hallways of the infirmary were as lifeless as ever, even though they were indeed bristling with droves of people coming-and-going during the hospital's busy visiting hours. No one questioned her as she made her way past them. Statues carved from marble would have had more personality than any of these other blissfully shallow, ignorant passerbys. None of their thoughts were plagued with the notion of Witches, neither were they burdened with the loss that she had become so familiar with. They knew nothing of the sort that compared to what she knew. Each and every one of them lived boring, peaceful lives.

They were enviable, in a way.

How she wished that she could live like that once more.

And how she knew that there was no way she could ever be like that again, that she could not be allowed to even entertain thoughts like that until her self-appointed mission was complete.

Not _"if"_ it ever completed, _"when"_it ever completed.

She would never forget that.

She could NEVER forget that.

Through the front doors of the hospital, Homura strolled out across the mostly-vacant courtyard like she always did to the direction of her apartment. Once there, she would once again take up arms and begin meticiulously plotting out the details of her plan this time around.

"Hey there." A deep voice brimming with masculinity called out to her as she walked past.

Considering it nothing more than just a mere cat-call from some random onlooker, she would spare the man trying to talk to her a simple cursory glance - no more than that. Then she would be on her way. She had no time to deal with one of the masses, those that were not a part of _her_world.

Homura Akemi turned to the source of the voice.

And froze.

A tall figure with distinctivly tanned skin and spiked white hair wearing black pants with a matching shirt of dark silk stood before her. His eyes were narrowed wryly as he gazed at the girl, almost as if he knew her well. _Quite_well.

After all, why shouldn't he know her?

That face was the one that had been recently haunting her nightmares.

Moving like a vengeful wind Homura allowed her instincts to take over, and in the blink of an eye she sprung into action. The gears of her shield spun furiously. The citizens lingering in the courtyard froze in place, the petals blowing in the light breeze hung suspended in the air an instant later. But an instant gave her all that she needed.

Because time had stopped.

Regardless, Homura Akemi was a blur of motion within the pocket of locked time. She closed the distance between her and her opponent impossibly fast, thrusting the bayoneted tip of the rifle's barrel right at the man's face. All it would take was one tightening of the finger, one pull of the trigger, one round to be expelled, and then this would all be over before it ever began anew.

The shotgun roared as it expelled its deadly payload. In this space between instants, it was a sound only Homura Akemi would hear.

But-

The cloud of pellets and gunpowder fired into the air from the upturned shotgun, only to shortly freeze in place as a result of the time magic's effects, looking like a surreal puff of dust. Somehow, she had missed...and the reason for this was both obvious and mindbogglingly improbable that she still was unable to believe it.

Because her target had grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and turned it aside the moment she had fired it at him.

And he was the one who was supposed to be unable to move even a milimeter at this moment.

_'How...how is this even possible?'_

Gripping the barrel tightly, he grinned devilishly at Homura. "Well, you're an interesting little girl. That's a really nifty power you have there." The man remarked, amused and impressed by what the sudden turn of events displayed before him, "Tell me, you wouldn't happen to know anyone who goes by the name of 'Miss Blue', would you? Because I think you're unintentionally stealing her thunder."

_'What...what the hell is he?'_

Homura Akemi was unsure of what she found more disconcerting. The fact that the man before her not only had faster reflexes than she had anticipated, but also apparently had now somehow developed an immunity to her time control magic; Or the considerable change in his personality. This man seemed an almost completely different person from that existence that had come so close to bringing an end to her life back in the previous timeloop.

That roguish smirk, that smart-alec twinkle in his shining gray eyes, now so full of life and vigor when compared to how she saw him before:

_-Remorseless-__  
><em>_-Unfeeling-__  
><em>_-Mechanical-_

...the change in his demeanor, however, there was something about it that she found equally disarming and disturbing at the same time. It somehow made her want to lower her defenses, while simultaneously brace herself for the worst. In spite of this noticeable change, Homura was put even more on edge than ever before, and she prepared for the unknown. If the situation did indeed take a turn for the worse, then...

She released her grip on the shotgun, left it in the grasp of the man, and retreated away from his vicinity with a dash. With catlike grace Homura landed a short distance away, tense and at-the-ready for whatever the situation threw at her next.

The man let the rifle clatter to the ground. He remained where he stood, complacently, patiently looking at Homura all the while. This ease, this almost laidback-appearing attitude of his, it was especially unnerving. But she knew better. She knew that this mysterious man would be ready for anything at the drop of a hat, if his previous actions were any indication of his reaction time. He was not an opponent to be under-estimated.

She whipped out a pair of moddified Desert Eagles from the space where she kept her weapons and pointed them right at the man, their laser-sights drawing two red dots on his chest.

"What are you?" Homura questioned her mysterious former-assailant as she continued to keep a bead drawn on him. Depending on his reaction, she would have to maintain an aggressive stance. Even if she had lost a certain amount of edge on him, she would be left with no other option. "Why are you here?"

"Now those are questions that I'd like to know the answers to as well." the man responded accordingly, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. There was a _certain_whimsy, a genuine curiosity layered into that expression of his which caused his action to somehow allow him to bear a fleeting resembelance to that of a silver-furred fox.

This gave Homura pause. She had no reason to trust what this guy was saying to her one bit. This was a man that had ruthlessly bore down on her without warning the first time they had met, a man who was more than capable and willing to lay her low for whatever reasons he had been charged with . Now, by some devious twist of fate they had now once again re-encountered each other in another life, primed for an inevitable seeming rematch.

She had no reason to trust him.

However...

She felt no intention for battle emanating from the white-haired man. In fact, the only violent tension that existed between the two "foes" was on her end. If he was a being who was capable of concealing his murderous desires, then that would lead to a new host of potential complications. On the other hand, if he really did feel no desire to fight, and he certainly did seem to be all but asking for an opportunity to talk...

Homura Akemi was an experienced and proactive fighter who lunged at opportunity whenever it presented herself. That was the way she was, self-taught by countless relivings of the same time tragic time period over and over again. But she was by no means a one-track battlerager. If he really did have something to say...

Perhaps she would allow the figure to speak his side.

But if he tried anything suspicious things would doubtlessly get ugly.

"Then tell me this:" She took it upon herself to ask a question that she was capable of getting answers for. If she had inferred correctly, then the man before her desired information on the whole ordeal as much as she did. "What do you want with me?"

"I figured that you were the one that I should turn to for the answers that I want." The black-garbed man replied with a neutral and businesslike expression, the slight flair replaced with something more serious. "After all, you are the one that I am now Contracted to."

"Contracted? What do you mean?"

"My existence in this world can only mean one thing: that something has bound me to this reality and is serving as a spiritual anchor. Without it, I wouldn't even be here in the first place." His explanation seemed off, but that was by no fault of his own. It was just that the concept he was speaking of came off as a bit foreign sounding to Homura Akemi. He spoke of this as if it were _magic_, yet she was acutely aware of how it was magic worked. Something felt off. But then Homura was reminded of something that was said to her once, a long time ago. Something about how magic is not within the bounds of science and reason, right? That was why the Incubators had implemented the Magical Girl/Witch system in the first place, wasn't it? For everything that was predicted and expected to occur as a result of magic, there were still plenty of unknowns and variables involved with magic, weren't there?

QB - damn that rat, all of them, and everything that he ever wrought and represented - his words only did nothing but ring ever true.

"...And you think that I have somehow taken you as my own, like some familiar?"

"That's right, your word is my command, _Master_."

"I'd rather pass." Homura bluntly stated. "I do not desire to be a part of an unwelcomed alliance. Particularly with _something_that was so eager to kill me before."

"That was not something I was 'eager' to do, that was just something that I _had_ to do." He steadfastly defended himself. His alternating tones and sentence construction inferred a deeper, hidden meaning unlost on her. "Our positions then and our positions now are like day and night, you should believe that much." The question was, did that matter to Homura Akemi one way or another?

"More like dusk and dawn." She cooly fired back. The barest hints of a grimace - or was it a pout? - showed on his face. The thought of a "team-up" still did not sit well with her. His abilities were undeniably useful, she could see that clear as day, but _he_was an entirely different matter.

Even now, she still could not trust him.

The man regarded her expressionlessly after her stinging quip. Listening was not her problem; so what would it take for this girl to accept? "Regardless of your feelings on the matter, I am your familiar and you are now my Master. That will not go away simply because it is inconvenient or you do not like it."

"Then if I am indeed leaking some of my magical force into you in order to sustain your existence, then tell me: why can't I feel this 'connection' of ours?"

"The connection is weak, but there." Unphased by her questioning impetousness, he answered. "It wouldn't be an inaccurate comparison to say that I'm under new management right now. I'm off duty you, could say. As for why you can't feel the link..." He shrugged his shoulder impassively, almost as if he were apologizing that he had to put it this way, "That's just the way you are. I've met people before like you: Those with incredible powers and abilities, but lacking in other departments. Output and input are not always equal. A capacity for magic does not necessarily mean that one will have the actual capabilities to utilize such magic as they want."

"Why then? Why was I attacked in the first place? What did I do to warrant _that_?"

"You were attacked because you were there. You did nothing, and that was why you had to die," The man's eyes narrowed as he recalled that night, the catalyst which commenced this chain of events. "It was what I had to do, simple as that. The World needed to clean-up after itself, and I was the sweeper. What happened between you and me was nothing personal, nothing of the sort. You could also say that you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"It was just circumstantial?"

The man nodded in confirmation. "Essentially. If you were not there when we had arrived you and I would not be having this conversation right now."

"So...I am partnered up, or rather 'Contracted' with a familiar that I have virtually now control over, I cannot detect through said connection, and is immune to the one thing that gave me an edge on him, the one thing that could have possibly kept him in line should anything obscene happen?"

"You have the gist of it."

"No." Homura Akemi decided, possibly once and for all. "I want nothing to do with you. And I most certainly could not use any sort of help that you could offer."

Homura turned her back to the man and went off on her way. Her magic finally was released, and the world reset itself back to the way it was, as if nothing had ever happened. The wind blew a mournful tune, the birds sang melancholic songs, and the saccharinely blissful townsfolk carried along on their own happy little ways, all unaware of the drama unfolding around them. Homura had made her final decision, and she denied the man who had appeared because fate had intermingled their paths, paths that were worlds-apart and never meant to cross.

He HAD to get in one final say. He could not possibly let it end like this, not before telling her the one thing she needed to hear the most from him:  
>"Before you cut me loose, could you at least answer me this? Does the name 'Madoka Kaname' mean anything to you? Because I have no idea who the hell that is."<p>

Homura lurched mid-step.

"How do you know that name?" Her voice was nearly a whisper.

"Beats me. I just know." He shrugged. "All I am aware of is that when I showed up like this, it was a just a name inside of my head. That and something about a wish."

Homura turned around to once again face the man. The realization had hit her like a metaphorical freight he had said, had he really said something like _that_? Did he really say something like _that_? He did, didn't he? He did. He most certainly had mentioned that, _**her**_name... he had said her name.

"You're not lying about that, are you?" Of course he wasn't. It was impossible to lie about such an obvious thing. There wasn't a chance that he would know _anything_ at all about that, not unless **something** was at work. And that **something**, it had something to do with her. Her friend...her wish...her friend's wish...

...was he, perhaps, here to carry on Madoka's will?

"Regardless of what you think or not, I believe that there must be a reason that I'm here. And you yourself must believe that as well." His tone changed. It sounded more commanding and proclamatory, and it was directed at her now. "As I have answered your questions, now you must answer mine. Homura Akemi, tell me this: 'Do you believe? Do you believe my words, that what I am saying is true and relevant to you and your wishes?' "

"I believe...I believe that you can make yourself useful to me."

"That is...that's..."

The deeper meaning of her words was not lost on him, try as much as she might to hide it.

"...Good enough for me."

The angle of her head shifted gently. The universal sign for 'follow me'. She was obliging him to go after her.

Her former one-time enemy caught up with Homura Akemi and was following closely behind in only a handful of strides. Their journey was cut prematurely short, however, for reasons refreshingly human and simple.

"Do you have a name?"

"Hm? A name? I used to have one." The man blankly said, almost as if his mind were in another place. It was fleeting, though, and he was back to his old self before Homura could register the significance of it. "But if you're going to call me anything, then you might as well refer to me as...'Archer'."

"Very well then." "Come, Archer."

With that out of the way, the man and the girl continued to leisurely yet deliberately trudge through the colorfully mundane city without exchanging anymore words. Well, anymore words until-

"By the way, about that scar on your chest? It will stay with you for as long as you live."

Homura turned around and glared suspiciously at Archer. "How do you know that? You weren't looking, were you?"

Archer shrugged dismissively, after sparing a few seconds to think of his response. "Sorry to disappoint you," he wrly grinned as he looked Homura straight in the eye, a mischievious spark glittering in his eyes, "...but I'm not into little girls."

"...shut up."

**X****th**

_The man known simply as "Archer" was not one to readily believe in the notion of miracles, even though he had bore witness to several major events that would have undoubtedly been classified as such over the course of his fleeting, exciting life._

_Those marvels - unthinkable, breathtaking, and without a doubt awe-inspiring - had only ever wrought chaos, suffering, violence, and indelible change, and not for the better. They were like forces of nature; beautiful to look at but dangerous to anything in their paths. _

_Such violent things could not possibly be quantified as true "miracles" in his head._

_Yet...being here right now, walking the streets of this city at this girl's side; __  
><em>_Having the capacity to be able to think his own thoughts, to feel the crisp city city and the warmth of the setting sun, to act of his own volition, to reclaim what he had come to accept as being lost;_

_This turn of events was also brought upon by another one of those violent phenomenons. So, what did that make all of this? Because of that, he would have surely thought otherwise were it any other situation but this. _

_But, at that moment, Archer felt that what he was experiencing right now was certainly...__  
><em>_...a miracle._

**X****th**

_From atop the towering radio antennae that dwarfed the nearby skyscrapers, the girl with the deep red-hair polished off the box of a dozen donuts in a decidedly non-commital manner as she observed the travelings of the motley pair far beneath her on the city's floor. _

_The emergence of another Puella Magi in _**_her_**_ territory. It was a rare but not-unexpected event. Past experience suggested that it was likely some piece of fresh meat who wasn't aware of the pecking order that existed within Mitikihara's Puella Magi population. _

_That would be dealt with accordingly. She'd just have to break in the new blood like she always had to. _

_Sounded like fun. Plus, it's one hell of a way to kill boredom. Game arcades can get _**_soooo_**_ dull when she didn't have any money left over from her previous excursion. _

_Wiping the residual frosting from her lips, Kyouko Sakura's face lit up with a hungry, wolflike sneer as she __relished the thought._

!...Next Episode...!

-X-

_**Witch Hunter Archer**_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Tsun-Tsun Homu Homu.**

And GOD DAMN, was this a bitch to write. This conversation between Archer and Homura happened about 13 different ways before I finally put down something concrete. Sheesh.


	4. MediaRes: Church at the End of the Road

The guiding tip of the cane clattered against the ground rythmically with each step he took, and the man walked to the chapel at the end of the paved driveway. He may have lost nearly all of his sight, but he was by no means blind. He had been seeing more clearly now than ever before, in both the literal and the figurative sense. He had been this way for a long time ever since he had his grand epiphany all those years ago. As such, the cane he held served no real purpose other than helping to serve that of the image he wanted to project.

After all, should not a man who had received enlightenment, a Buddha that had dealt with his own _Mahabodhi Tree _look the part?

With an emotionless smirk he mentally scoffed at himself for the Buddha-comparison. How could he ever be comparable to such a man? While it was true that the Buddha had formerly been a renowed prince in some incarnations, he himself had merely been...

...perhaps the comparison was as apt as it could have been. But that still raised serious questions the priest still asked himself to this very day:  
>Was he a real savior? Or was he just a man living a delusion he wanted to share with those willing to listen?<br>Could he possibly be both? If that were the case...  
>...did it really matter anyway?<p>

Just as always, he put such thoughts out of his mind. The answers to those questions did not matter, because those inquiries were irrelevant compared side-to-side with the truth he had procured. Right or wrong, Savior or Madman, as long as he relayed his findings to those who would listen...then he found purpose.

The heavy oak doors of the simple chapel opened up with a gentle creaking sound that mingled with the idle chatter of that day's audience. His ruined eyes could barely discern their forms as he passed by their pews, looking to him like distorted, blurred shadow puppets that barely passed as humanlike to his sight.

There were few people seated in the modest chapel. His crowds were small, but loyal. That was perfectly fine with the priest. It did not matter how many came to his sermons, nor what they truly believed, but so long as they were willing to listen to him and the truth he bore he was content with his lot in life.

Indeed, his old goals had vanished ages before, leaving him the way he was today. He had lost himself on the path he had walked before, a path that he had believed was the way most suitable for himself, but then was able to miraculously travel a new way when the world and fate had shown him. His purposes had retooled themselves into something new that day.

As he approached the altar, the voices of the people grew quieter and quieter until when he finally reached the top of the pulpit his audience was all but silent. The silence was deafening, expectant, and ready.

The acoustics of the place were designed to carry a speaker's voice with ease, and as usual the hall served this purpose as well as it had ever. With the simple stained glass window casting an ethereal multi-colored glow like sunset around his form and his empty eyes staring out at them, the priest rose a hand - a weak hand, a defiant hand, a hand that beckoned and offered - the priest spoke as if he were addressing each and every one of them personally.

"To all of you whom have gathered here on this day," His deep baritone voice spoke beatifically with a weary, accepting and satisfied smile, _"Let me tell you of the day that heaven touched the earth..."_

**~ INTERLUDE OUT**


	5. Chapter III: Hunter I

**- Chapter 5 -**

**Hunter (I)**

* * *

><p>When Archer and Homura had made it to the girl's apartment a couple of hours later, the magical girl and the former Counter Guardian had wasted no time bringing the other up to speed on the current situation. "Archer" had of course told Homura as much as he knew of (so the man said, anyway) beforehand, so it was up to Homura to bear her brunt and share as much relevant information as she was willing to divulge to the man who called himself her "familiar".<p>

Homura spoke of dates and locations and time periods, information that normally would have been inherently granted to an existence like his via a certain magical ritual he had participated in what seemed lifetimes ago. These details were registered like the menial annecdotes that they were, thus allowing Homura's lessons to continue on into more ... serious and pressing issues.

Homura continued to fill Archer in on the details of her experiences that she ascertained he would find to be the most relevant and useful in the upcoming days. She explained about the Puella Magi, the magical girls who formed Contracts with the alien race known collectively as Incubators, and how their ultimate fate was to fall into despair and transform into the mindless horrors known as Witches so that the power expelled during the metamorphosis could be collected and impede the heat-death of the universe.

But most importantly of all, she briefed Archer on those: _Walpurgisnacht_ and _Kriemhild Gretchen_. That which must be stopped in order to prevent the other from ever occuring, and the one which can never be stopped so long as a human being feels despair in this cruel and wasteful world. Homura told Archer of her one-and-only mission: the time travel, the power that she had been granted to stop the Walpurgisnacht from violating the unsuspecting city of Mitikihara, so that way the contract could be prevented from ever forming, that the world would be spared an untimely doom in the process.

Archer took note of the way Homura was behaving. Her posture, body language, annunciation, it was all like a book to him, a book that he was capable of reading. Resigned, clinical, and empty. Hers was an existence that he could sympathize with on a deeply emotional level. Her mental age did not match her physical appearance, and she was as weary and disillusioned as any veteran soldier he had ever seen before, if not even more so. She did not need to say anything - he himself knew what all of those repeated failures and betrayals could do to a human being.

Even though he knew full well of the truth and accepted it with blithe indifference, he still believed it wasn't fair at all. Why did reality always force everyone to grow up so fast?

So Archer came to a decision: He would fulfill the duty that orders that had been imprinted onto his soul, and his swords would serve this girl's best interests until a bitter end would forever force the two apart.

**X****th**

The magical girl and her familiar had a mission to undertake, but zero hour and the arrival of Walpurgisnacht was still a long way to come.

And the city was still crawling with Witches.

Even though they were part of a Master/familiar partnership, and since both aspects of the relationship displayed more than a fair-share of weaponry and skill to back up forementioned weaponry, Homura and Archer had reached an agreement that allowed the both of them to treat each other professionally and would recognize the other as an equal, as well as trust the other's judgment.

With this in mind, this is what caused Homura to allow Archer the ability to grant himself permission to go out to town in order to perform vital reconaissance work that would allow him to better familiarize himself with the metropolitan jungle that was Mitikihara.

As his trip took him further and further into the heart of the city Archer would methodically reach out with his Structural Analysis magecraft and scan his current perimeter. Doing so would allow him to peer into the blueprints of Mitikihara itself, and thus monitor the flow of energy within its matrices. In life, Archer had been a magus who had specialized in replication (although he handled the replication of certain items more profficently than the replication of others) and reading, and coupling this with his existence as a spirtual body meant that the one formerly known as Emiya Shirou's was quite capable of tracking targets in his current state.

This was the reason why when he detected a foreign source of prana bordering on the level of being something quite _Other_, he had an inkling that he had found a lead.

It did not take the silver-haired man long to trace the flow to its source:

A somewhat demented looking penguin-like creature that waddled, flopped, and slid around on its ample belly like it was the most awkward creature on the face of the planet while making the strangest cooing noises.

Yes, he was certain that he had indeed found a lead - a lead that had led him right to a _Witch's Familiar_.

The Familiar was ugly, stupid, and somehow strangely cute. But Archer was not that type of man; this thing was dangerous, and he felt somewhat obligated to ensuring the destruction of this bizarre creature...thing.

While Archer was stalking it, the penguin Familiar had mindlessly wandered, and by extension cornered itself into a filthy backalley in the city's redlight district, with no real means of escaping. Archer saw this as a golden opportunity to lie this thing low and notched a glistening arrow into a dark longbow, both of which he had called forth from his Reality Marble.  
><em><br>__'Easy shot. No real chance of missing unless failure is intentional. Easy enough stuff, really.'_

He drew back on the bowstring, the shining bolt nestled between his thumb and forefingers.  
><em><br>__'Center the target, visualize the arrow hitting its mark, and when the time comes...'_

- TWANG!

The projectile flew from the bow, sailing for what could be considered the Familiar's "forehead". The arrow would undoubtedly hit that target that Archer had mentally mark, were it not for one thing...

...the arrow had been turned aside at the very last second.

"Hey there. You're that new guy in town, aren't you?"

The probability of it happening was so high as to be absurd, but against all odds standing before Archer was a red-haired girl. In a dress of the matching color. Carrying a lengthy spear with a wicked-looking head on the end. In addition, the way she was fearlessly addressing him...set the red knight on edge in a way that he hadn't felt for the longest of times.

The chance that this was a cosplayer who had accidentally stumbled into the alleyway was exceptionally low.  
><em><br>__'What is this? This feeling? Déjà_-'

"Yoo hoo? Asked you a question over here."

Archer raised an eyebrow at the grinning girl's boisterousness. "I guess it's safe to assume that you're a Puella Magi, correct?"

"Whaddya think? Of course I am one. And unless shape-shifting is part of your repitoire, then I sincerely doubt that you're a magical _girl._"

"Well Miss, you certainly aren't wrong." Archer couldn't help but snicker at the girl's conclusion. "And yes to your previous question - you could say that I am indeed _not from around here_." The girl could not help but grin even wider in response to Archer's answers. Something about what he said sat well with her, but made Archer tense as a bowstring. What sort of answer had she been expecting, anyway? Did he just miss an opportunity of some sort? "But tell me, why did you not allow me to kill that Familiar?"

"Oho, so you know about Familiars, do you? Guess I ain't got a right to be surprised, since I did see you with her after all..." The more this girl talked the more alarm bells went ringing in Archer's head.  
><em><br>__'The girl knows too much; she saw you with Homura Akemi; she was of sound enough mind and body to deflect even one of your own arrows -_' his worried thoughts poured like rain, and for each possible scenario Archer was running through countermeasures and defenses in his head continously.

"Well here's the deal. Witches make Familiars do all kinds of things, right? They make them run errands; such as stealing random things like cheese, collecting souls and God-knows what else Witches make Familiars do. So after a Familiar has killed enough humans and stolen their lifeforce, then eventually that Familiar then grows up into a big, strong Witch that hosts a nice and tasty Grief Seed waiting to be plundered by a cute and sexy magical girl such as myself."

Archer briefly pondered the girl's words before deciding what to do next. As a Puella Magi, she needed the energy provided from Grief Seeds in order to survive and not slip into the despair-state that would turn them into Witches (not that the red-haired girl knew about that, Archer knew that much), so he understood the desire to cultivate Grief Seeds that would in turn lead to a healthy Witch population. But on the other hand...he knew what the Witches were capable of doing, and if there was one thing that Emiya Shirou had always disapproved of, it was letting innocents become victims of events that they had no part of. But since he could no longer consider himself Emiya Shirou because that was a name he had abandoned willingly so long ago...

...what would the archer do?

"I understand the position that you are in, and normally I wouldn't care about people looking out for themselves in a harsh world like ours. But, unfortunately, the moment that you got innocent lives involved in this was the moment that I had no choice but to draw the line." With a flash of prana the bow in Archer's hand disappeared to the void, replaced with a pair of Chinese daos the color of coal and snow that he tightly gripped in his palms.

Her eyes grew wide with excitment. "So what are you looking for, a fight? Because if you are then I can readily oblige ya'."

"If it comes to this, then I will have no choice but to cross blades with you."

" _'Live by the code, die by the code'_, huh?" The spear-girl recited in a sing-song voice.

"I follow no code of honor, except my own."

"Fine by me. By the way, if I'm going to fight you I wanna know your name. Mine's Sakura by the way. Kyouko Sakura." She happily sneered and stared at Archer fearlessly like she always had, like a hungry wolf that had espied a tasty morsel. "Now tell me yours, otherwise I'm going to cheat and gut you early."

"Well, I cannot exactly refuse a request from a lady now can I?" Archer returned the smirk as devilishly as he could. "I'm someone you can call 'Archer'. That's the only name I have."

" 'Archer', huh? Well isn't that original? With skills with a bow like that, I can't say I'm surprised that that's what you'd call yourself." Kyouko Sakura replied, amused at the way the current situation was going along. "Alrighty then, let's get crackin' - I propose that the two of us have ourselves a little duel!"

A duel was something that he had not had experienced in a long time. Of course, the same could be said for pretty much any earthly thing that can be named, since working for Alaya didn't exactly provide many benefits to those who were in service to the will of humanity.

"A duel? Pray tell me what sort of terms are we working under here."

"The one who draws first blood gets to decide whether or not the Familiar dies, agreed?"

Kyouko Sakura was unaware of the ironic double meaning that her words carried. Had the girl known that she was conversing with an actual familiar - albeit a kind different than what she was used to - she would have certainly raised an eyebrow. And possibly try to figure out how to claim one for her own.

Both the young girl of spearwielder and the silver-haired red-garbed bowman raised their weapons in preparation of battle, each one anticipating and relishing those few tense moments before the fight would commence. Muscles clenched and bodies tightened. Blades of silver and black reflected the twilit sun as they were subtly adjusted in the hands of the two warriors. "Very well, without further ado what do you say we get this duel started?"  
>Without another word, the man and girl lunged for each other, weapons at the ready.<p>

**X****th**

Sparks flew, and steel screamed against steel . Enchanted metals scraped against each other countless times in a handful of seconds. The girl's spear shot towards him with relentless tenacity, each thrust meant to be a would-be fatal or crippling blow. The red knight's own blows were by no means any less deliberated or unintentional. Each of his strikes was a probing strike, and yet more than that - Archer was also testing the waters, determining what it would take to strike a decisive attack against this girl. The fight between the two opponents was only just a duel, but that did not mean that either had to go easy on the other.

To the contrary, this actually encouraged the two fighters to take the other to new levels, each one pushing the other combatant to either new limits or revisting old ones.

Kyouko's speartip lunged forward, which Archer directed aside with a flick of his ebony sword. Rather, that is what was meant to happen, because instead the spear snapped apart into several pieces all connected to the other via a durable and thin chain. The point of the chain-spear altered its vectors directly towards Archer's head, like a living snake of steel. Only his honed instincts provided him with the reaction time required to avoid a fatal attack such as this one, but since the spear was too close to him this was not achieved without its own cost. His evasion had moved him out of the path of the thrust, but the spear's vorpal edge still sliced into Archer's cheekbone as he turned away from it, splashing trace amounts of blood in a glittering red arc.

Archer jumped backwards evasively as he tried to claim some distance for himself away from Kyouko's stabbing spear while she was momentarily distracted by the notion that the first strike of the fight had indeed gone to herself. Seeming thoroughly proud of herself despite the nature of her attack being a lucky shot, Kyouko then once more angled her spear threateningly at the man in red.

Archer found himself to be at a loss for words. "What's this? I thought the deal was that the winner was the one who drew first blood."

Kyouko cackled at Archer's assertations. "I changed my mind - I want to have some more fun with you instead~"Her grip of the spear tightened and her body prepared itself to dash forward the an inhuman bullet. "How long can you last. I wonder?"

_'Damn it, _NOW_ I know why this girl seems so familiar!' _Archer gave himself a mental facepalm in response to her declaration which altered the rules of engagement that they had agreed to. _'Who the hell does she think she is - the bastard child of CuChulain?'__  
><em>  
>With the tip of her spear at the front, Kyouko Sakura dashed towards Archer ready to spill even more blood in this little "duel" of theirs.<p>

Archer would not allow such a thing to occur. If she started to take this fight seriously, then he would have no choice but to put in even more effort of his own. The Counter Guardian leapt into the air and once more materialized the dark bow in his hands with a flare of od and prana. Fractions of a second later, a rain of easily-replicable en masse metal bolts shot towards the magical girl, with Archer bouncing off the walls of the neighboring buildings as aptly as a jackrabbit could skip through a springtime meadow.

Kyouko Sakura also leapt into the air, but was forced to adopt defensive tactics the moment the storm of metal blasted towards her, her spear spinning and sweeping as she flew through mid-air. Kyouko Sakura was also an experienced Puella Magi in her own right, but she had no reflexes the likes of which could prepare her for this rush of bullet-like swords. Her spear was able to deflect away most of the shots, but a few of the iron bolts were able to sneak their way past her defense and slice crimson rivulets into her as the grazed her body when they flew by, with the most serious of wounds being the one arrow that actually buried itself into her side. She might have been the first, but Archer drew blood on her ten times over what she had done to him.

But as an infamous black knight would say about the current situation " 'tis only a flesh wound!" Kyouko Sakura was on to something big here, for the first time in a long time she felt such a wonderful feeling that she had no choice but to oblige whatever impulse it brought her to do. For Kyouko Sakura...had just discovered something truly fun in this wretched world.

The feeling was certainly mutual. A fight like this...a fight like this nearly brought a smile to Archer's rugged face. A battle like this was absolutely refreshing, like the gasp of air a drowning person takes when rescue has arrived and they have reached the surface, gulping in the air like it was the last of its kind in the whole world. He had told himself over and over and over again that he would have preferred a peaceful life to a life such as the one he had no choice but to live. But you know what?

The man was lying to himself this entire time.

Archer was a sword. He always was, and he always would continue to be one - and a sword's place was only on the field of battle. Battle was something he did not consider an art-style, like a being such as Sasaki Kojiro, a means to achieve perfection in body, movement, mind and soul. Nor did he consider battle a way of life the way it had consumed the existence of King Arthur, a figure who had fought repeatedly and plundered from her own countrymen in order to supply her army with the proper necessities that they needed to defend Briton from those who would disturb its peace.  
>No, the one who had been Emiya Shirou saw battle as a tool, a necessitiy, an inevitable means to an end during his pursuit of an ideal that he had chosen to accept.<p>

But that did not mean that his place was not meant to be in the heat of combat, for at this point it was the only place where the man could feel like his life indeed did have purpose - a tangible purpose and goal that he could almost touch with his calloused fingertips, a place that he could only barely make out in the distance even if he Reinforced his eyesight to the point of nearly rupturing due to prana-overinfusion.

That sat well with the man just fine.

"Hold, hold still you!" Kyouko Sakura grunted whenever Archer slipped away from her and that spear of hers. Archer had come to learn to avoid that serpentine weapon, because the very nature of the lance made it somewhat challenging to fight with the girl. It jabbed and arced and sliced for him, resembling the writhing tail of a scorpion with its agile movements. Muscle memory guided Archer and his own counterattacks, each whip of his blades cutting for the red spear-wielding girl.

"No can do, little Miss Kyouko. If I gave into the demands of enemies every time I fought, do you really think that I'd be here today having this little schoolyard scuffle with you, enjoyable though it may be?"

"Hey! Take! Me! Seriously!"

"Oh, but I am. In fact, truthfully this is the most fun that I've had in a long time. I really should thank you properly for giving me such an opportunity to live a little."

"Well in that case, how about you die for me~?"

"I'd have to become friends with you first. Plus, that's the one thing that I cannot promise anyone. I'd be pretty a pretty useless man if I died like that. Something else, then?"

"Phoo, you're no fun at all."

"I've heard that one before."

The two had been exchanging banter and quips like this for some time now. No one knew how long they had been fighting each other, for time was an inconsequential thing when it came to the rush of life-affirming battle. They had continued for a long while, and would continue even longer until either they were both satisfied with the outcome of the duel, or one of them was stuck on the pointed edges of the other's blade.

Suddenly and without warning, the ringtone of a cellphone began to chirp happily and loudly, uncaring for the clash that it had inadverdently disturbed. The fighting ceased the moment the electronic beedling had began. That instant, Kyouko Sakura had whipped out a cellphone bedeckled with girlish accesories from...somewhere...and began looking at it intently.

Very intently.

_Was she even drooling just a tad?_

"Oh snap! Well, this is awkward." Kyouko proclaimed, causing Archer to raise his eyebrows again, and not for the first or last time that night. "I'll break this to you as gently as I can, okay Archer? My time here is up, so we'll have to settle this little duel of ours another time."

"What do you mean by that? Feel like telling me about it?"

Kyouko called to Archer over her shoulder as she ran to the edge of the roof. "Why? It's not a secret - it's time for dinner, and I absolutely hate having to miss meals! Especially snce my favorite place is offering such a sweet deal on croquette rolls!" The next instant, she had leapt off the building into the Mitikihara's wild dark yonder. "I'll see you later, okay thennnnn~?"

With..._that_said, Archer was left all alone on that nameless rooftop in the red light district of Mitikihara, with nothing to do but ponder what exactly had just happened.

_'Well...that was interesting. It's getting late, so I might as well return to Homura's apartment for now. It's not quite time yet for Incubator to be making his move, after all.'_

With that, Archer left the rooftop like an eagle that had taken flight, his form becoming more and more obscurred by Mitikihara's nighttime sky.

* * *

><p><strong>First Night - Distant Conclusion<strong>

_The darkness of the sky blotted out the ruined city below, lit only by the periodic flash of lightning and the dancing pyreflies fortelling the arrival of familiars over the distant rooftops. It was blisteringly cold, and the rain pouring down in torrents was quickly turning into freezing slush, chilling over the tips of the skyscrapers and making them as slick as frozen mountaintops. _

_Walpurgisnacht cackled up above, gleefully admiring the twistedness the it had wrought._

_Its familiars swarmed in legion-like droves of madness. The sheer size of their crowd would have surely outnumbered the stars if any of those lights could have been seen in the sky on this stormy night. They pirouetted and leapt and flew about in the air in a whimsical and carefree manner. Yet, their motions were decidely manic, erratic, chaotic and sinister. _

_They converged on his location._

_The menagerie of circus performers lunged for the man in red and black, inexorcably drawn to him like moths to a burning light, a pod of ravenous sharks to a desperate and wounded whale. In response to this strange tide, twin Chinese daos continually sliced through their existences - each swing striking a crass form, each strike swinging to cleave another one of those beings in twain. In the frenzy it was impossible for Homura Akemi to tell how many of these numerous foes Archer had slain in his defense. All she knew...was that it was not enough. Dozens - perhaps a hundred, even - had fallen in the face of Archer's last stand, but yet more and more continued to swarm him, growing ever the more closer. He was a veteran of countless battlefields in life and in death, and his accumulated experience was nothing to scoff at at all, yet even she knew that he was only moments away from being lost forever._

_Walpurgisnacht continued to cackle up above, gleefully admiring the twistedness the it had wrought._

_The weather had changed again, and the slushy rain had become replaced with a gentle falling snow that threatened to blanket everything. _

_She could not pull herself to look away, could not force herself to divert her attention away from the inevitable tragedy that would surely befall the man any milisecond now. Even as the snow stung her eyes and the familiars engulfed him, she would not look away. Even when he was immoblized and his body was pinned to the cold rooftop, she would not look away. When their howls echoed in the night she would not look away. Even when their cartoonishly-spindly, almost spiderlike legs tensed up like drawn gulliotines and swung down with murderous force she would not look away. _

_It was only when the blood first started pooling at a disturbingly alarming rate from his lifeless body beneath the writhing pile of flailing, bloody limbs could she finally do something._

_She became angry.__  
><em>_  
><em>_- A mysterious and gentle singing flowed through the air, dancing amidst the snowflakes - _

_She became the angriest that she had ever been. __  
><em>_  
><em>_- That angelic voice; It spoke to her soul and explained that if she wanted to get back at them all for these injustices, for stealing away her chance - _

_She screamed her anger at those merciless bastards that had killed the man, her familiar, her contractor, her property.__  
><em>_  
><em>_- She should __ruin__ them all like they ruined her - _

_The rooftop exploded in a fireball of grease, smoke and molten stone. The entire tower collapsed into pebbly rubble, and the glass and steel sidings of the surrounding skyscrapers blew on the radioactive wind like the fluff of a dandelion. _

_Laughs of pain reverberated through the collective minds of the Walpurgisnacht's familiars. Their simple minds were shocked and confused...and deeply afraid for the strangest of reasons that they could not process..._

_Another pack of familiars went up in a burst of burning ash as another massive missile detonated in the living cloud and fried them all to a crisp._

_She only spared Walpurgisnacht one more murderous glare - a glare that carried with it the weight of the hate of a thousand thousand traumatic repetitions, a glare that wanted it to die, a glare that cursed its God-damned existence to Hell and back. It mattered not whether Hell existed in this world or not._

_No problem._

_She would bring Hell here instead, one way or another._

_The dark clouds obscuring the sky parted, shining the moon and the stars and the night sky down upon the destroyed city. They were beautiful, and they would witness her final actions as they happened...and when the dozens of nuclear warheads exploded into the Witch and bathed it with the forces of absolute destruction, destruction at its purest form, those celestial bodies kept their unspoken promise to her and observed the flames engulf the city of Mitikihara._

* * *

><p><strong>BAD END<strong>

**_-_**_**  
><strong>_**_= HOMERUN DOJO =_**_**  
><strong>_**_-_**_**  
><strong>_  
>*A bloodied up (and slightly smoking) Archer regains consciousness in what appears to be a classically-styled dojo*<p>

Archer (*confused as all hell right now*):  
>Gah, somebody get the license number of that Walpurgisnacht that hit me. Bwuuuh...Wait, hold on, what the hell? what's going on here? Where am I? And why do I feel like I just experienced déjà vu at least forty times just now?<p>

Homura (*garbed in a baseball uniform and hat while holding a sturdy looking wooden bat. Obviosuly it's a Louisville Slugger, because those bats are boss*):  
>Why, this is the Homerun Dojo! A fun little hint corner run by Homura-sensei for all of you good little boys and girls who have gone astray and have stumbled upon one of the dreaded <strong>BAD ENDINGS<strong>.

Archer (*still confused as all hell*):  
>Wait, what? There are <strong>BAD ENDINGS<strong>here? Say what?

Homura (*SENSEI MODO*):  
>That's right! Here in <span>Xth Loop: SwordStilled Timewe want to be in the spirit of the original Type-MOON visual novel, the author has decided to write in all sorts of nasty surprises for the readers to stumble across in the occasional update so that he can enhance his work (although I myself would refer to that action as "padding"), so you have to be careful, because misfortune can befall us at the drop of a hat. And it's most likely your fault. Because I'm a good girl who never fails at anything...except with what I do fail at. ;_;

Archer (*incredulousness ACTIVATE!*):  
>Right. Yeah, about that...what the heck even happened this time? It wasn't really anything that could have been avoided, right? It was just a dream, after all.<p>

Homura (*SENSEI MODO 2-Hit COMBO*):  
>Exactly the point! What we had here was one of the infamous "<em>Fake<em> **BAD ENDINGS**", (not including all of the **BAD ENDINGS** that will become prevalent in Xth Loop, of course) and it is classified as such because even though it seems like a normal **BAD ENDING**, it actually has plot significance that affects the storyline as a whole.

Archer (*could not think of something funny _;;*):  
>With that in mind, let me get this straight: Turns out this was just an excuse to introduce the Dojo in the first place?<p>

Homura (*C-C-Combo Breaker!*):  
>Don't say it like that, you're cheapening its grand debut!<p>

Archer (*inquires s'more [M'mm, s'mores~]:  
>Right. Sorry about that. So tell me, "Homura-sensei", what exactly happened in that BAD ENDING we just received?<p>

Homura (*DERP'd):  
>Rocks fall, everybody dies. And you forgot your red text for <strong>BAD ENDING<strong>, Archer!

Archer (*spotted the DERP*):  
>I don't care about the red text. No, seriously. What happened?<p>

Homura (*SENSEI-MO -wait, no. Not quite*):  
>Why do I need to explain it? You were there. AND, you were torn apart by clowns, unicyclists and monkeys, which caused me to bomb all of Mitikihara City into radioactive slag in an attempt to utterly decimate Walpurgisnacht. Don't mess with the Hominator when she's mad, bro.<br>Too bad I nuked _MADOKA-SAMAAAAA~~~_into a hot pocket in the process of doing so. ;_;

Archer (*asks the zinger question*):  
>Well, what I really want to know - and I'm sure almost everyone else here does, too - what exactly was that mysterious voice?<p>

Homura (*really wants to wrap things up right now*):  
>That, my lovely little accessory, is a secret that shall have to wait until another day.<p>

Archer (*...*):  
>Hrm. I thought as much. Well then, I can wait, I suppose.<p>

Homura (*ZA WARUDO*):  
>Well then, that's all the time we have for now, then~! Do come visit us again sometime, but not too soon, you hear~?<br>_MADOKA-SAMAAAAA~~~_;_;

* * *

><p><strong>X<strong>**th**

Homura bolted from her bed with a start, and not for the first time that day. She was sweating profusely and shaking violently. To lose control like this deeply disturbed her, and she struggled to regain control of her quivering, panicked body. Steady breathing, forced meditation, self-hypnosis - anything she knew of she used in an attempt to regain herself.

As the minutes ticked by Homura was steadily able to relax once more, banishing the strange feelings and tensions that had haunted her sleep that night. Sitting upright in her spartan (yet cushiony) bed, she lost herself in thought as she tried to puzzle out what it was that had exactly happened just then.

It was a nightmare, sure as anything, but what did it mean? Did it mean anything? What did it portend anything? Was it a vision of the future? Was she merely just worried on an unconscious level that the key-difference in this time loop just might not turn be enough to set it all right? Was it all anxiety? Was it something else? Nothing at all?

...thinking about this made her head hurt _so_much. She entertained the thought that if she were a girl of weaker composure, that she would probably be running for the toilet right now to expel the contents of the dinner that Archer had made for her. However, she had long since lost that response. She was no longer the weak girl that she used to be...so why?

...why?

"Something wrong?" The man whispered at her and interupted her melancholy, the slightest hints of concern layering into his voice. "PTSD?"

"...Pardon?" Homura responded, not quite in the proper state of mind to register what Archer had just asked her.

"You know, 'Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder', right?" Archer reiterated. "No, no, no. I mean, is did something wrong happen? You jumped awake all of a sudden and it looked like you were about to suffer from a seizure or something of the sort. You seemed to have it under control as soon as it happened, though, so I refrained from doing anything to impede you."

As it turned out, Archer had seen everything that had just happened. Homura Akemi felt a little embarassed having her new partner see her in such a state, but she quickly regained control of that emotion as well. Best not to needlessly worry the man anymore than he needs to be, after all.

"Nothing's wrong with me. I just had a nightmare. You don't have to worry about me now, it has come and gone."

Archer turned away some time after Homura gave him her answer, with a strange look in his eyes. "I understand...but Homura, if you ever need help or are concerned about anything at all, then by all means do not hesitate to come to me for guidance. I'm here for you. After all, I am your familiar, your _property_."  
><em><br>__That _word. Immediately Homura Akemi began regretting even thinking of that word to describe the man before her, even if it were in just a dream that she had no ultimate control over.

"Alright then," Homura agreed. "Then next time something happens, I'll go and see you, Archer."

"Good girl. Now go get some rest. It's a long day tomorrow."

Shortly afterwards, Homura Akemi fell asleep once more and slept soundly until dawn broke the next morning. Archer restlessly watched over her the entire night, not caring about her reaction to his actions when she awoke the next day and discovered what he had done for her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**I almost wrote Grief Seed as Jewel Seed while doing this. Derpderpderp.  
>Also, WELCOME TO THE ROCK AND ROLL NIGHT we have ourselves a cameo! And we also have the first of many Homerun Dojos.<p> 


	6. MediaRes 2: The Few for the Many

**Interlude - The Few for the Many**

He ran through the musty, dimly-lit corridors, the labyrinthe-like structure of the building not slowing him down in the least. He may have been unfamiliar with the layout of this particular building, but he nevertheless expertly navigated the twsting halls with nimble janks and evasions around the tight corners and treacherous flights of halfway-built stairs.

Gunshots thundered like cannon-fire in the tight space, the ring of projectiles striking metal resulting from the missed shots sounding like the splitting of continents in the narrow corridors. The game of cat-and-mouse continued for a long, unknown amount of time. Even when one of those roaring magical bullets exploded from the gun's muzzle and tore straight across his back and splashed his blood on the unpainted walls upon impact, he continued on. The way this body of his was, an attack like that hardly mattered in the long run and would only serve as a minor irritation during that given moment at the most. He possessed a goal, a greater motivation that would not allow himself to fall so easily, not like this.

She did not understand. Why could she not understand, not see the bigger picture, a picture far more intricate and immense and grand and significant than her, him, his race, her race, or even the sum of all that combined?

How could she be so ignorant to the greater good?

Or rather, why was she so adamant about disregarding the greater good in the first place? How could she be simultaneously apathetic and caring all at once? He could not say. For after all of his experience, he could never nor would he ever be able to understand humans.

All he knew was that the girl was defiant, stubborn, and foolish.

So foolish.

It was because of this that humans would never be able to save the universe were they thrust into the same dilemna that his species was in. If all humans were like this, then the universe would have sparked and fizzled and atrophied into non-existence a long time before.

That was the curse of humanity. That was the blessing of humanity.

The ability to feel joy, love, fear, anger, surprise, annoyance, anxiety, contentment, embrassment, resentment, courage, hope...

And most importantly of all, despair.

Emotion.

Emotion strong enough to bring a demon god into existence that embodied everything human that would allow mankind to use it as a scapegoat for all wrong with them and their world. A being that they had the gall to ironically dub it _All of the Evil in the World_, because if _that_ creation of theirs was considered evil, then all humans must surely be evil as well.

They are not.

He was familiar with that existence. How could he not, considering that it was so intrinsically linked with humanity and everything associated with it? Good and evil is merely subjective. Those are only labels that less-advanced races use to categorize whatever it is they see fit. Labels like that are quaint and meaningless, and ultimately, discussions about said topics are also equally simple and meaningless. Their wide spectrum of varied and deep emotions proved that humans were doubtlessly the greatest asset the agonizingly-slowly dying universe could ask for...

...the most important kind of cattle.

That was why he ran. What was the life of a single, depressed girl when compared with the whole of everything else? Anyone would be able to see the truth of that, even if they were a human.

Except for that foolish, foolish girl named Homura Akemi. Unsurprising. The girl could no longer be considered human anymore in her state.

So he ran.

He continually ran until his wounded vessel of a body found itself in the arms of Madoka Kaname.

**~INTERLUDE OUT**


	7. Chapter IV: Hunter II

**- Chapter 6 -**

**Hunter (II)**

* * *

><p>Sighing quietly, Archer allowed himself a moment's reprieve and sat down on the park's bench. He set the heavily-laden bag of groceries down on the pavement beside his seat, and leaned forward with a pensive, dull expression. It was a peaceful morning by any standard, filled with the singing of birds in the trees and the distorted chatter of distant city life. He idly tugged at the loose collar of his street clothes.<p>

He was not tired, but Homura's school was still in session, and while it would have been far more convenient to skip classes altogether in order to accommodate for preparations and other such plans - as Archer had actually discussed with her that morning, before she left for school - Homura still clung to that hint of a simple life. Ultimately, he could not blame her for making that choice; though the lessons taught by the teachers were surely the same as they always were in all of the other World Lines, Archer could tell that the reason Homura attended that school was so that she could keep a close eye on Madoka Kaname, for professional and _personal_ reasons. He was reminded of his own policy that he used during the Holy Grail War that he fought in, an attempt to maintain his own form of normalcy. In retrospect, had he known just exactly how his War would have turned out, then it would have been for the best that he had cut all ties for that time period; detach himself from everyone he was acquainted with, detach himself completely from his old life so he could immerse himself entirely in the path of a magus, of a hero of justice, wholly lose himself in the moonlit world while he pursued his ideal for that time.  
><em><br>__'Perhaps that would have been for the best, all things considered...'_

As was the way he handled all of his melancholic thoughts of his trouble-filled past, Archer merely decided to stop thinking about it. What was done was done, and he could not allow himself regrets. Regret was something that a tool - a weapon - did not have. As if he could really do anything about his past, the consequences of his actions. He snorted derisively at himself, heedless of the happy-looking mother and child walking directly across from him, painfully reminding him of...

Regardless of his mental state, the fact that Homura still had school left the Ghost Liner with little to do. Though he had encountered that Familiar the evening beforehand, Witch activity in the city was rather subdued for the time being. He had constantly reached out into the matrix of the city and read the flow of mana countless times beforehand turing to the park for a break after confirming for the umpteenth time that there were no aberrations haunting Mitikihara at that time, however short it may be.

Archer was not particularly familiar with the methods and behaviors of Witches, so he found all of this rather fascinating, in a somewhat clinical fashion, the same way a soldier would think the ways and routine of an enemy he studied and would one day have to eliminate could be considered 'interesting'. But not as of that moment. No Witches, not even a quirky Familiar running around causing trouble for the mundanes of this city. Archer figured that they were simply more active during the late evening hours, all the way until dawn broke. Perhaps they were like vampires in that regard? Or maybe it just happened to be something else entirely. Who knew? After all, he was not exactly the first-and-foremost source on knowledge regarding Puella Magi, Witches, and other related topic, even though he had discussed it with Homura herself the day before.

Thus, did Archer continue to remain seated on that bench, groceries at hand that he bought idly for future meals, waiting for Homura Akemi to call for him once more but more than willing to apply himself should anything ever crop up that forced him into action. By his own nature, Archer was a man of action. He would gladly accept that role were it bestowed upon him.

**_'...be careful what you wish for, Archer...'_／人◕‿‿◕人＼**

"Yo."

This was the only warning that Archer was ever given. That word, that sudden appearance, combined with those behaviors - the memories came rushing back, and Archer was momentarily startled as he reverted back to his boyhood for the briefest of moment before recomposing himself. But in the end it was too late for anything to be done about that. Instead of the tall figure of a certain blue spear-wielding knight that smirked too much and cracked too many euphemisms and jokes for his liking he had nearly expected at first before realizing his own folly, Archer was instead greeted with the image of a grinning, confident middle-school aged girl standing over him with a head of hair a color that reminded him of maroon and blood.

"Guh! Oh, I mean, it's you."

"Hey, Archer," Kyouko Sakura addressed him fearlessly. "Don't act like that didn't just happen."

"Oh?" Archer deadpanned, answering and avoiding her at the same time. "What did just happen, then?"

Kyouko rolled her eyes petulantly, but she still wore that ever-present smirk while doing so. "Figures. I thought as much."

"Whatever. Why are you here, Kyouko?" He thought it was prudent to ask this question. After all, their meeting was likely not a coincidence, not with what happened the night before with the Familiar. "So, have you come here to finish your duel with me? Because this park isn't exactly the most discrete of places to have it, you know. Too many women and children."

"Duel? Who wants a duel?" Kyouko's eyebrows raised interestingly, like she just heard Archer admit to a rather incriminating and juicy tidbit of his personal life.

"Didn't you say that you did? Right before we went our separate ways last night? I do believe that you wanted to have a rematch sometime, one that had an actual winner to it."

"Duel, schmuel." The girl dismissed Archer's assumptions with a non-chalant wave of the hand. "Yeah, I said I wanted to finish our duel 'later', and 'later' just doesn't happen to be now." Her eyes were half-lidded, like her eyes were chuckling at his expense.

Archer shrugged. There went that possible idea, so what else did that leave? Best just to ask her, just in this case. He was not a mindreader, after all. "What do you want then, Kyouko? Why come to me, because I have my doubts that you were just passing through and wanted to say 'hi'."

"I resent that, ya know." She took her own initiative and sat down on the bench right beside him, not even bothering to ask for the permission. "What if that actually was what I wanted to do? Can't a girl pass through a neighborhood, spot a man she nearly fought to the death with over a fun little wager, and pop on over just to say hi just for fun? Is this because of our fight?...You really shouldn't dislike someone just because they try to kill ya, y'know."

"Shouldn't you be in school or something?" He decided that if he was going to be stuck with this girl for a while (and it certainly did not seem like she wanted to go anywhere anytime soon), then he might as take it in stride like an adult should. "School's still in session."

Kyouko just chortled at Archer's question, not even sparing the man a proper retort and then proceeded to pop a piece of chocolate-flavored pocky into her mouth. She turned her head in his direction - the piece of candy still in between her lips - and her eyes meet with Archer's. He was glaring at her, but for some reason she somehow interpretted that...somewhat differently. "Want some?" she asked as she tantalizingly shook the box in Archer's face.

Archer blunk. "No thanks."

"No one can refuse. C'mon, eat the damn pocky or I'm not telling you why I came here." Kyouko insistently shoved the box ever closer, close enough so that Archer could open his mouth and take one then and there.

"Alright, alright. Fine. I'll eat your candy." Archer then proceeded to take a single stick of pocky between his thumb and index and middle fingers before popping an end of the stick into his mouth. He was reminded of just how tasty those little snacks were, back in the day, and iit seemed as if the taste of this particular brand did not shy anywhere near the "mediocre" end of the taste spectrum.

Kyouko only had criticisms for him. "You're supposed to use your mouth, y'know. But whatever, I'll let it slide _this time_."

"Okay Kyouko, tell me, what is it that you really want from me? Why _are_you here, anyway?"

"Fine, 'kay, I'll let the truth spill if that's what you really want. Truth is, I was bored, and...well, I felt that it might be fun to see you again."

"We fought, you know that?"

"A 'fight'? Puh-lease, no way anyone could call that a fight. Besides, I told you already, you shouldn't hate someone just because they tried to kill you. It's bad etiquette, ya know." Kyouko chuckled, laughing at her own joke. "No, no, no. I just wanted to hang out, that's all."

Archer chewed on the candystick, considering her worlds while trying to ignore just how much she reminded him of _him_. The things she said weren't exactly helping her in terms of comparisons.  
>"Why me?"<p>

"I dunno. You just seemed fun, that's all."

"I seem _'fun'_..."

"Yup, you do. Totally. Even though you've got this stick in the mud - or should I say sword in the stone? - kind of vibe going on, I'm pretty confident that I can bring it out in you."

Archer again sighed, no doubt because of this curious little situation.

"Alright." He buckled down and asked her after he finished the piece of candy. She offered him another piece, but Archer turned down her favor this time in order to ask her own questions. "What sort of 'fun things' would you want to do together.

"Hmm..." Kyouko scratched her head in faux-thought and kicked out with her legs in a rythmic pattern, "Hey Archer, I've got it! You should take me shopping!"

_'Onii-chan, take me shopping~"_  
>A distant, white-haired memory of the past appeared to him in his mind's eye.<p>

Archer quickly banished that comparison to the far, forbidden depths of his subconscious the moment that thought crossed him. No, he most certainly did not want to associate any memory of Illyasviel's with Kyouko, especially since she the way she behaved forced him to recall the infamous Cuchulain more than he would have liked. His mind would never allow him to associate any trait or mannerism of Illyasviel's with a person like that. Never ever. A cross between the lttle homunculus and Ireland's Child of Light was far too much for him to comprehend.

No.

Just, no.

Archer had come to a decision. He would nip this in the bud. No matter what it was, or what he had to do, he would nip this all in the bud.

"Really?" He scoffed, emboldened by her boisterous declaration. "What even makes you think that I have money to spend on you, anyway?"

"Those groceries. Ya had to buy them with something, right?"

"Well, how do you know that I did not spend all of my money on these groceries?

"No problem. If that were the case, then this all my treat! Actually, I was going to make it my treat anyway, cause I'm sweet like that."

"That's...still a no."

"Hey, Muddy-Stick-Guy! Please! Come on already! Don't be so stingy!"

_'Please? Please Onii-chan, pleeeease?..._

Archer cursed his memories, his weaknesses, and his fondness all at the same time that moment. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself, he just could not let go of the past, could he? In the end, was he just the most sentimental of all fools? How long would those ghosts haunt him, no matter how much he hardened his mind and body against them? He did not know, but for that moment, just that one moment...

Archer sighed in defeat, since he clearly had no way of winning this, "...Where do you want to go?"

"Hey now, I said it's my treat, Mr. I'm-Too-Cheap-to-Pay-for-My-Date." Kyouko tugged on his hand, forcing him to stand up and grab the bag of groceries that he left by the bench. "You're the guest here, so I'mma treat you~!"

"If you're so adamant about this then lead the way." Again, Archer sighed in defeat.

"I ought to call you _'Onii-chan?'_, shouldn't I?" Kyouko wrly asked with a distinctly devilish grin, "Don't older guys like being referred to as that?"

Archer's right eye twitched involuntarily. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you call me 'Onii-chan.' Ever."

"Whatever ya say, _'Onii-chan'_..."

"How would you like it if I called you _'Cherry Boy Hunter'_, then?"

"Great! You've already given me a pet name! First base is only a little ways away now, y'know~ "

Archer resisted the urge to bring his palm to his forehead, and instead allowed himself a resigned sigh of defeat.

.

X-X-x-x-x-X-X

.

At a clothes boutique carrying the latest in trendy fashions, Kyouko was as giddy as could be. She was trying on all sorts of different outfits, the sheer number of which would have filled several closets to the brim with clothing. As per usual, Archer was dragged along and forced to evaluate each and every one of them she put on. He never took Kyouko Sakura to be a "girly girl", but he supposed that when it came to women and fashionable outfits, then the desire to play dress-up with themselves must have been genetically imprinted into their very DNA, imprinted into their souls as women.

"Well~?" Kyouko strutted out of the changing room with another outfit, this one consisting of a rather revealing spaghetti-strap top and a skirt that was so short that wearing it was likely banned in certain countries. "How do I look~?"

"You look cute." Archer dully intoned those same words again, just as he always did whenever she asked that question.

"Really~?" Kyouko had begun seeing through Archer's thinly veiled effort, and decided it was time to strike accordingly. "How cute am I?"

"Just _'cute'_."

"Way to commit there, Archer." Kyouko pouted and stepped closer to Archer, determined to needle an honest thought or reaction out of him. No guy could be this dispassionate about such a cute girl wearing such flattering and absolutely adorable clothes in front of him. "Come on, Archer! Aren't I so cute that you'd just want to take me home and keep me forever and ever~~~?"

_'Don't ask me such weird questions. People could get the wrong idea.'_  
>"...Just <em>'cute'<em>."

"Well fine, how about this one then?"

'How the hell is it possible that she isn't bored of this yet...How...?' Archer groaned inwardly as he braced himself for the next wave of outfits.

.

X-X-x-x-x-X-X

.

"Laser Tag? Really?"

"You betcha! This is the sport of kings and men!" Kyouko winked at him. She expertly spun the laser pistol in her hand, invoking an image of a gunslinger of America's Wild West. "You're no king, but you're definitely a man. Unless you're afraid of losing to me, and want to hand in your man-card at the front, you'll duel me in that arena! No holds barred!"

Archer shrugged, but he was admittedly significantly more excited for this activity than the previous one. "Well, if this is what you really want, then who am I to complain, huh?"

Kyouko grinned madly, thoroughly pleased with Archer's newfound enthusiasm. "Better bring your A-Game then, _Onii-chan_!"

...then she had to go and call him _that_.

...he swore to himself that his lasers would show her no mercy in that killing-field they were about to step into.

.

X-X-x-x-x-X-X

.

"_DanceKarokeDancer/RevolutionaryDUELS_?" Archer raised an eyebrow.

"Those wins of yours were flukes! All of them! Which is why we're now going to be doing this instead!"

"So, we're playing this rythm game because you're pissy that you lost so many times."

"I'm ain't mad because I lost, I'm mad because you cheat, you cheating bastard!" She cursed and leered at the man she was despeartely trying to defeat. She did not care how many types of games they would have to play, she would exert her superiority over him sooner or later. She had no intention of losing again to him, not like that.

Archer likewise threw Kyouko an accusatory glance. "Excuse me, but camping is a legitimate strategy. It is not my fault that you were not innovative enough to come up with a counter-plan and snatch away victory."

"...Shut up and jam, _Onii-chan_." Kyouko grumbled these last words to him before they then stepped onto the dance mats and gripped the oversized microphones in their hands as the latest in pop music began to blare .

_'Heh, she's actually pretty cute when she says that.'_ Archer whimsically thought, getting mentally prepared for the impending, grueling karaoke/danceathon. _'Of course, I could just be savoring her wonderful pout...because I am about to make her regret challenging me to this game.'_

.

X-X-x-x-x-X-X

.

The heels of their shoes clicked on the pavement as the man and the girl walked down the road. Archer believed that the recent turn of events was nothing short of downright embarassing, yet unsurprising. He was certainly a coordinated man who could exert great control over his movements, but he had always been lakcluster when it came to those sorts of games. Back in the day, he could never seem to be able to best even his sister. Of course, the fact that she actually knew how to dance meant that she always had an acute advantage over him.

Kyouko Sakura poked Archer in the shoulder. "Certainly put your money where your mouth was, didn't ya? You got creamed in that one game!"

"Dancing is difficult enough," Archer defended himself from Kyoukos jabs - both the verbal and literal ones, "But having to karaoke at the same time? That's inhuman."

"Oho? I think you're just jealous of my skills, you sore loser you." Upon saying this, this quieted Archer for some time as he walked beside Kyouko, following her lead and going wherever it was that she had decided to whisk him away to. For all of his callousness, Archer had somehow been able to find it in his heart to actually _enjoy_himself during that outing. He blamed it all on nostalgic memories.

Their journey continued for a while longer, until Archer spied a cathedral in the distance that loomed closer and closer with every step.

"You're ... taking me to that church down the street, aren't you?"

"A'yup! I'm inviting you over!"

"Pardon me? So you live there?"

"Sort of. It used to be a place I could call home."

When they finally reached the doors, Kyouko unlatched the front door of the church, which then creaked open with an oddly melancholic sound and scattered a very fine layer of dust as they brushed over the floor. As far as Archer could tell, the church was in a state of disrepair, but it somehow managed to retain the grandeur and vibrancy that a church was supposed to have. A high ceiling easily fit the tall flights of stairs that led up to an altar illuminated by an immense stained glass window. Over his years, and as a result of his path in life, he had adopted an extremely secular, detached view of everything, and yet even he was still able to appreciate the inherent, forlorn beauty of this old church, in spite of the current condition the building was in.

"So you really do live here. Or at least, you used to." It was a statement, not a question. "Not exactly the best place that a girl such as yourself should be living."

Kyouko nodded in response. "It's not much, but it's home. Or at least, it was home."

"This place looks like it could use a woman's touch." Archer dryly retorted.

"Oh, har-dee-har-har."

"Would you mind reminding me why you brought me here again?"

"I told you, you're my guest. A good hostess always treats her guest right, y'know." Kyouko's words were confident, but her tone seemed to be missing something. She looked around with an absentminded expression, as if she were lost or looking for something in her own home. She seemed _different_from her usual self, not unlike the way the magi he had been allies with in life during the Holy Grail War behaved differently when in a more vulnerable state. There was a certain uncertainty troubling her. Something was definitely concerning her, concerning Kyouko Sakura that moment, whether she would be able to admit it or not to herself.

Archer decided to try and take a stab in the dark.

"Is there a kitchen nearby? Like a soup kitchen or anything similar?" Archer figured that a church of this size was bound to have one, even if it were in a state like this, he could make it work out.

"Oh," Kyouko looked downright confused, but seemed to pick up on what Archer was saying, at least marginally so. "Yes, there's a place down that hall."

"Thank you. Are there any pots and pans there?"

"Actually, yes. Umm, why are you asking?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going to cook something for you. I might as well treat you like this, considering what happened today."

The red-head's eyes widened when she heard Archer's words, and for a moment she seemed to freeze where she stood. She finally reacted again by cracking a small smile. "Now there's something I'm looking forward to."

.

X-X-x-x-x-X-X

.

Sure as she had said it, there was a kitchen hidden away in a corner of the church. As he had suspected, the place had not been used for some time, but it was easily cleaned with a few wipes of damp cloth here and there. After that small round of maintainence, Archer had then cracked into the vegetables and meat that he had bought eariler in the day before Kyouko came to pick him up. He was mildly surprised to learn that he could still withdraw money, and that his account number still worked, so that of course caused the former counter-guardian to ask himself some interesting questions. In this world, what did it mean to him if Shirou Emiya still had an accessible bank account? It was a curious quandry.

The kitchen knife hacked away at the hodgepodge of vegetables that Archer had sacrificed from his groceries. They sliced the meat meant for Homura's apartment into thin strips, and the empowering scent of of hot, flavorful broth, and sauteed garlic and onions permeated the air of the kitchen. It had taken less time than Archer had anticipated he would, so if this meant it took less time to get dinner started, then that was all for the better of it.

At the end, dinner was ready.

Archer and Kyouko sat across from each other at the dining table, the dinner that he had cooked for her spread out all before them. Archer allowed himself to wait, so that Kyouko could indulge in the first bites. After that first bite of hers, Kyouko's chopsticks were a blur as she enthusaistically served and sliced away at the food before her. Yakitori was mercilessly ripped away from their skewers, miso soup was drunk like water, and the platefuls of riceballs were virtually inhaled. Characteristics of CuChulain, Illyasviel Von Einzbern, and now apparently Taiga Fujimura, Kyouko Sakura had a surprising depth of character that had not been readily apparent to him during their first encounter with one another. Satisfied with his work, it was then that Archer had allowed himself to beging partaking of the meal.

.

X-X-x-x-x-X-X

.

"This can't be the last time this happens. I won't let you."

Archer smirked as he cleaned up the numerous dishes. "So, you'd like it if I were to cook for you again?"

"Like it? I want you to cook for me every meal, Archer!"

He chuckled as he put the plates and bowls away into their respective spots in the pantry. "We'll just see about that, won't we?"

"Y'know, I don't think I want to let you go." She insisted, prodding at Archer with her words. "I'm going to have to claim you as my own. You'll have to cook for me forever."  
><em>'So that way I'll never have to eat alone or go hungry again...'<em>

"If that's what you really want, then you should talk to Homura Akemi about that. Although I do not believe that she'll give me up without a fight, so if push comes to shove you'll need to forcefully take my contract away from her."

Kyouko seemed thoughtful, almost pensive, but at the same time still mischievous as ever. "A contract, huh? So what you said really is true, that you're some kind of familiar."

"Correct." Archer nodded as he finished up with his task. "I'm Homura Akemi's familiar. If you really do want me then you'll need to win me away from her.."

"That's something to put on the to-do-list, then."

"I'm sure of it, Kyouko." Archer's scheduled curfew with Homura was due to happen soon enough, so he wanted to get there on time to meet with her. The flow of the city's energy was pulsing and gathering suspiciously at this moment in several locations, a sure-fire sign of Witch activity blossoming. Where there were Witches, there would be magical girls, and each Witch represented a potential hazard to Homura's goals, and if there was one thing that Archer would do, it was that he would see to it that he aided Homura's efforts regarding the impending disaster that was Walpurgisnacht, at any cost.

"I'm serious about that, Archer. You need to cook more for me. Don't let that talent of yours go to waste, otherwise I'll be especially brutal when I steal ya away from her!"

Archer merely waved goodbye to Kyouko as he left the church's grounds and stepped out into the sunset-lit city. It had then occured to him that he would have to buy more groceries before he could even consider returning to Homura's place. Archer shurgged. He had no qualms about re-buying food supplies again. After all, it was not as if the food had gone to waste.

**X****th**

"So this is a Witch's Barrier?" Archer more or less rhetorically asked about the bizarre space that he had stepped into with Homura that was hidden away in that derelict railway station.

"Correct. We are in the dominion of a Witch right now, so we need to be on guard at all times."

"No need to remind me of that, especially with what just happened right now. Don't let their looks fool you; these are some especially aggressive Familiars."

"Indeed." Archer was of course referring to veritable pile of dead Familiars that he and Homura had butchered upon entering the Witch's Barrier. The Familiars acted quickly and had turned their sights to the girl and her partner instantaneously. Homura and Archer had responded accordingly with similar lethality, so none could exactly blame them for their self-defense.

"Do all Familiars look as bizarre as these?" Archer examined the diminishing body of one of the dementedly cartoonish penguinlike Familiars that he had killed during the brief but violent struggle.

She stepped over a pooling puddle of brown and savory-smelling blood. Homura kicked away one of the weapons that the Familiars had been armed with, an odd-looking gun, with a tap of her foot. "They look ever stranger than this on most occasions. This design is pretty tame to some of the varieties that I have encountered through my experiences."

"Hmm….this blood smells strange…and oddly familiar." Archer inquisitively dipped a finger into the Familiar blood and looked it over, observing the consistency, feeling the texture, and giving it a taste to confirm his suspicions.

Homura raised an eyebrow. "When did you start drinking blood, Archer?"

"Ever since it tasted like curry." Archer deadpanned. "No, I am merely making an observation. It's just an oddity, really." He stood up from where he knelt and dusted off non-existent dirt from his dark trousers. "It really does taste just like curry. That's queer. Although there's an aftertaste that just doesn't seem to fit, like...fruit?"

"I'll take your word for it."

"Don't blame me too much. I used to be a cook, so I'm familiar with multiple flavors and how they layer into one another." Archer looked off into the distance, his eyes tracing along the pathway that they would need to take in order to reach the Witch. "But I suppose that's enough talk about the taste of weird blood. We have a job to take care of right now."

"No more time to waste." The next instant a pair of submachine guns with combat knife bayonets appeared in Homura's hands from the dimensional space she kept her weapons.

Heedless of stealth, which was virtually next to pointless this time, The runes all along the walls glowed and spun like twisting gears and turning tornadoes of color. Apples of all sizes ranging from normal to gargantuan floated in midair like hovering planetoids, some as whole as they day they would be sold on the market, others with bite marks marring their perfect forms and others still that had rotted away to the core. A distorted, muffled sound like music rumbled in the distance, an eternal white noise as a background track to the proverbial lion's den that they were in.

"This is an interesting place." Archer casually remarked while running alongside Homura, a flash of a sword of his slicing through another Familiar like a bullet and splattering more of that flavorful blood into the psychedelically colorful void. "It superficially resembles a Reality Marble, and bears certain traits of a Boundary Field, but is ultimately something else entirely. It's more like an independent pocket of reality that we stepped into, a closed-off room separate from the rest of the plane, allowing it to exist indefinitely and not be crushed by the world's influence. It almost makes me wonder what would happen if I were to…"

Homura remained silent as she gunned down a pair of Familiars distance that had opened fire on her.

"Sorry, Master. These are all probably terms that you're unfamiliar with."

"I do not mind, Archer." She replied, the edge of her wakizashi splitting a nearby Familiar like a watermelon. "I can more or less figure out what you're saying, If I have any questions about your knowledge, I'll just ask you later when the night is over."

"I'm not the best of teachers, though. So don't expect me to be able to teach you anything regarding magecraft."

"I never asked that of you."

With that wave cleared, the aura of the entire place grew thicker with the sensation of despair and power as Homura and Archer quickened their pace and were all but running to confront the Witch. "I recognize the feeling of this Witch's Barrier." Archer told her. "Without a doubt, this must be the location where that Familiar originated from that I fought before. With luck, we should be able to put a stop to _all_of the Familiars and the local Witch that has set up shop here." Homura simply nodded in agreement.

The aura grew flared in intensity. A wave of emotions – with despair of course being the most prominent – rushed past the intruders like a gust of scent blown downwind from a sewage treatment plant. With no doubts, their target – the Witch of this barrier – was just ahead of them, in that simple room locked away behind a book-shaped doorway with an ornate lock adorning the front. Several clouds of shotgun pellets were fired into the doorway, enough to unsubtly blast away the lock into shiny scraps of useless metal.

It was not as if Archer's method of infiltration was any more subtle. If push came to shove he would have launched a Broken Phantasm at the door and have called that a job well done.

"Do you suppose this is the Witch?" Archer asked sardonically, staring at the _thing_in front of them.

"What do you _think_, Archer?" She replied.

"Probably the same thing that you're thinking of right now."

With a twin sunbursts of prana flashing in both of his palms, Archer's two favorite swords appeared in his hands.

"I thought as much." Homura retorted, and the gears on her shield began humming quietly in preparation.

"This does not bode particularly well."

Sensing hostile desires emanating from within its personal sanctum, the Witch reared up from a hunched position to its full upright height of roughly seven meters. The Witch was ready to kill those that had dared to impetuously intrude into it's lair. It would ensure that they would not leave here alive.

_"Dnab llor Dna kcor a tsuj er'ew!"_  
><em>"Nam llor dna kcor a tsuj mi!"<em>

Looking like some sort of sleek robot that was shaped like a massive teddy bear, the Witch bellowed out an inhuman roar that sounded far too human for anything that should look the way that it did. The Witch swung two massive clublike fists at Archer and Homura, the twisted claws protruding from those parodies of arms like gnarled branches that squirmed like tentacles. The force behind the attack was brutal, but ultimately easily predictable, and the blows smashed into the multicolored ground harmlessly.

A rain of swords flew down and dug into the Witch's form, tearing into the steel arms and the metallic shell of the beast and sending sparks everywhere. The rhythmic staccato of blazing gunfire ripped in the distance, and bursts of armor-piercing shells further dug into the Witch. A burst from the tip of the gun's barrel shattered the Witch's dollike eyes, leaving only empty sockets leaking that same mystery-blood in their absence. The Witch screamed more of that gibberish in anger and agony, and with a flare of energy the hovering apples - including the one Archer had alighted on in order to attack the Witch from a distance and gain the advantage of the high ground - began to move at high speeds.

Spinning like drunken meteorites, the apples crashed and smashed into everything and anything that they collided with. The "ground", the "walls", the Witch itself - all in an attempt to utterly demolish the intruders that had grievously wounded it so. It continued to scream and rage and flail like a petulant child, just on a larger scale than a temper-tantrum had any right to be.

It continued to scream until a glowing golden arrow buried itself into the forehead of the Witch and exploded like a miniaturized neutron star. Then all was still. All was silent. The Witch had been killed.

"Are you all right there, Homura?" Archer gave his Master a once-over, to insure that she had not been harmed too badly in the battle. Advanced healing capabilities or not, if she had broken every bone in her body during that skirmish then he would still have to be the one to carry her home and temporarily take care of her until her Puella Magi body fixed itself. "That was a very intense fight. Lots of things going on at that final moment."

"I'm fine, Archer." Homura replied. "I am not badly hurt."

"That's great to hear," He responded, thoroughly glad that she had made it out in one piece. "We make a rather good team, don't we?"

But before Homura could answer properly, the Witch had lunged for the girl and her Ghost Liner, claws outstretched and nearly demolished face snarling permanently like a skinned skull.

**"****Thgi****n ****llor dna ****kc****or e****ht ****ot e****mocl****ew****! ****  
><strong>**Thgin llor ****dna ****k****cor eht ot ****emo****clew!****! ****  
><strong>**Thgi****n ll****or ****d****n****a****kcor eht ****o****t ****emocl****ew!"****  
><strong>

Just as quickly as the Witch had resucitated itself and attacked them did its entire upper body finally and truly blow apart into bits of curry, plasticene-steel and electronic parts. Smoke billowed from the barrel of Homura's Mk19 Grenade Launcher, and the bowstring of Archer's longbow twung from the vibrations of firing a series of Phantasms into the Witch in rapid-succession.

"Yes, I do believe that we make an adept team." Homura cooly replied as she and Archer bore witness to the true death of the Witch.

**X****th**

"You are remarkably cool about this." She said to Archer.

"It's nothing, really." Archer admitted as he examined the corpse. "I'm just used to seeing dead bodies."

Even if the body were that of a nearly unrecognizably mutiliated corpse of a Puella Magi, Archer was calm about it. With a clinical detachedness, he looked over the torn-up body of the young girl that they had found lying in the Witch's Barrier, even though the fabric of the place was likely to fade out any time now. Archer looked over the dead body as effectively as any professional coroner would.

"Well, I can safely say that this is not the work of that Witch. Or any of her Familiars. The wounds do not correlate with their weapons and methods, and the Soul Gem has distinctly been crushed. Furthermore, the body has actually been drained of all of her blood, as evidenced by this immense puddle around her." Archer stood up and spared Homura a grave expression. "If I had to take a guess, I'd say that she was killed by something else entirely. Something that is not a Witch or a Familiar. But, that just leaves..."

"...that's a disturbing notion."

The Barrier fade away into nothingness. "Indeed it is. Perhaps this unfortunate girl happened to have a rival somewhere. A deadly serious and determined rival, at that."

"You should probably keep a look-out, then. Being a magical girl is a very dangerous job, I'll have you know. This just happens to be one of the job hazards." A voice spoke to them from the darkness.

"Kyubey." Archer curtly acknowledged the Incubtaor's presence with a brief nod, recognizing him from Homura's descriptions and memories. Homura merely scowled at the catlike creature, her trigger finger twitching involuntarily at the very sight of the alien being. "So you're Kyubey, huh? What are you here for?"

"I just wanted to let you know something that you two might find to be of particular interest," The white cat tilted his head whimsically and continued to stare at Archer and Homura. "I have just seen Mami Tomoe take Sayaka Miki and Madoka Kaname into a Witch's Barrier that they came across. I let them know that that particular Barrier they came across is home to an especially strong Witch, but they still went about on their way anyway." He turned around to face the other direction, to head off to parts known only to him. "I thought that it would be prudent to tell you this, Homura Akemi, given your _vested_interest in Madoka Kaname's well-being. Do be sure that you make the right decision, though. Time waits for no one, not even myself."

Hearing Kyubey's words and seeing Homura's thousand-yard stare, Archer had an inkling that he knew just where his next objective was going to lead him next.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:  
>Kyouko Sakura~<br>Throwaway Witch got pwn'd hard.  
>Also, CAMEO.<strong>


	8. MediaRes 3: The Culmination

The light above him shone like a second sun, a glittering celestial body in the twilight air. It also burned like a second sun, without the sort of heat that a normal human could possibly understand. The gentle chill of the falling snow was inconsequential in the face of _this_. The taste of True Magic was heavy and tangible enough to even leave a smell in its presence. For every moment he gazed upon it, the intense light emanating from the limitless void seared his eyes and ruined them beyond the repair of even magecraft more and more.

But even so - he could not bear to tear himself away from the sight before him.

He would be lucky to ever see again if he had stopped looking at it long ago. But it had been such a long time since then, it would have to be considered outright miraculous if he had maintained even a little bit of sight if he stopped now.

But even so - he could not bear to tear himself away from the sight before him.

Gazing into the void, straight into the fabrics that bound reality together, he raised his palms to the air, as if offering prayer to the light before him.

It was so beautiful, so wondrous, so ethereal and almighty and unachievable.

The light of human nature glows the brightest right before it slips into desparity, and this was doubtlessly the greatest light of hope the world had ever seen shine for such a long time. When it would finally fade into obscuring blackness, it would be an anguish the likes of which he would have never seen.

But even so - he could not bear to tear himself away from the sight before him.

...It shined for the longest time, almost as if it were somehow mocking his belief that despair would be sure to follow this shining hope.

He had thought that he had found meaning in his life. He had thought that it was only the suffering of others that could fill that emptiness that weighed his heart down, that to observe suffering from a close distance or become even more intimate with the situation and cause it himself was the only sort of satisfation that he could find in this pitiful world. But all of this gave him pause, made him almost rethink everything. And though he had yet to change, what with the impending consequences of these events yet to be revealed, those thoughts insistently nagged at the back of his mind, giving him pause, tantalizing him with the possibility that maybe he found something else.

That was why...he could not bear to tear himself away from the sight before him.

The searing, burning light of a miracle radiating like a star plucked from the sky. This is what the three founding families strived for, the reason they devoted generations and generations at untold costs on all sides to achieving. This is the divine mystery that is the Holy Grail being put to its original intended purpose look like.

This is what Emiya Shirou's wish looks like.

It took the longest time, longer than he had even previously waited, but then the light even he found so beautiful and enticing and dynamic and provoking...finally burnt out, the lack of light apparent to even his blinded vision.

He cracked a smile.

It seemed as if that old adage was right and that good things indeed came to those who wait. Now he would bear witness the fruits of _his _labors, the result of the actions of one tied down to their past in a multitudeof binding ways, the price he would pay for seeking virtually-impossible salvation alongside the pursuit of his beliefs, the culmination of his love.

It was faint at first, the distant noise.

The slosh of far-off water.

A scraping sound. A clattering sound. A sound wholly reminiscent of nothing else but grating metal.

His eyes were rendered useless by divine light cannot see, but his acute senses could tell many things. That the movements sound forced, heavy, and unbalanced, as if it were an ordeal to simply move.

...He was not surprised, and more than a little amused.

Sounding like a mass of chainmail, the movement shambled past him unsteadily, the weight of what he knew to be countless swords being dragged across the cool, baked ground clanking rythmically with each step.

"Tell me...was it worth it all?" He was still smiling when he finally spoke.

"...it will be." A voice simply answered. It was exhausted, weary, and probably not even thinking properly at this point. It was a voice that sounded like it wanted nothing more than to rest, rest for a long time.

In his mind's eye, he perfectly pictured the ones he was addressing. "You find it possible to embrace someone and carry a sword at the same time? Doubtlessly you are aware that if you are like that you are unable to hold anyone else close to you, because your arms are too full. You will have to sacrifice much in order to keep both, far more than what you would need to if you only chose one path to tread. Yet that legacy of his, that is the ideal you so stubbornly cling to - modified though it may be from your original perspective on it in order to fit with your current needs and experiences you have gained from these past weeks."

A slight rustling of clothes and iron brushing against itself accompanied a weak reply, barely a comeback. "...shut up."

He changed the subject once more, touching upon a topic he found somewhat fascinating. "Forcefully realizing an Origin such as _that _in order to gain the ability, engaging in highly-selective memory/soul merging to obtain the knowledge required to make use of it, along with the obvious forging of a Contract to ensure that you have the prana upkeep necessary to perform your magecraft in the first place? You really did not take any chances with this when you took every measure you could in order to turn yourself into a sword for her sake and 'justice' ."

"I didn't know what would happen. But, I don't regret it."

The man continued to smile as he stared ahead at where the artifact had once been. "You are not aware of how long you have to live, right?"

He was greeted with only silence.

"How fitting. If that truly is the way things are, then you are certainly suitable for each other."

Again, nothing but silence. Silence and the gentle creak of sharpened steel. The one he was addressing had lost the taste for his variety of talk, his personal brand of humor that only someone as dark as he would find appealing. It was just as well. He had other things to discuss with it, even if it did not exactly wish to put up with him at that time. "Would it be too much to ask of you what happened to the new Grail Vessel? I find myself to be curious, seeing that this is probably the first time that the Heaven's Feel ritual has actually been completed - despite certain bumps along the way."

Amusingly enough, it actually _scoffed_ at him, finding his nonchalant reference to things such as _**All the Evils in the World **_and all of the costly losses and trials it had to go through distasteful. But it was beyond caring for such things anymore, not when the goal was finally achieved.

Heavy, tired breathing. "Assimilated by Akasha. Even if that weren't the case, I wouldn't have expected her to wake up any time soon - she did serve as a conduit to Akasha for a long time, and there was that astral projection I _needed to take care of_..." Had he been able to see, he would he seen it flex dangerously.

"I suppose it could not be helped then," Shrug. "Even if the Vessel were salvageable, nothing could have been done to restore the mind - that had flown away to another place much before this night ever happened. Do you miss her? Do you feel sorrow for what you had to do in there?"

Again, nothing but silence. Silence and the gentle creak of sharpened steel. He heard the shifting of weight, a delicate and dainty and precious weight that he was carrying, even in his current condition. Even he thought that it was an admirable thing.

"We have grown closer as enemies because of the choices you have made. In addition, I am at your mercy right now. My immediate future lies in your hands, so tell me: why are we still talking like this? Why have you not killed me by now?" He asked, more out of the sake of rhetoric than a desire to sate meager curiosity.

"...You'd make too much noise. Might wake someone up." A simple reply, emphasizing the point by another slight shifting of the weight it had so that it could carry the weight better.

"Ah. I _see_." He intoned ironically and enjoyed a mild chuckle at his own joke.

"You can't do anything anymore. You can't hurt anyone like this. It'd be just more pointless bloodshed, just like this entire war has been. Too many have already needed to die for this. But don't mistake this for hospitality: I'm not doing you any favors by letting you go." The gentle din of grating steel and the padding of feet resumed again, and quieted in volume as they went further away. "If you I ever catch you around causing trouble, then I won't hesitate to end it." A simple enough warning. It would be the only warning it'd ever give again.

"This is the most talkative that you've ever been around me." He continued to smile and stare blankly.

"We're going now, and for your sake you should hope we never meet again."

"Pray that you do not come to regret these decisions of yours." His parting words were answered with creaking footsteps that grew more and more quiet until they could no longer be heard.

Then he stood alone. Alone at that temple, standing there and smiling emotionlessly in the dawn sunrise that we peaking from beyond the distant mountains.

That was the last thing that Kirei Kotomine saw when he awoke from his sleep, a dream from long ago of the day when heaven touched the earth.

**~Interlude Out**


	9. Chapter V: Hunter III

Get the hell out of here, you damn hiatus! No one likes you, jerkass!

Update, ho~!

Merry Christmas...

...happy Boxing Day, whatever.

* * *

><p><em><strong>- Chapter 7 -<strong>_  
><em><strong>Hunter (III)<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>Glimmering white...<em>

With her mouth agape helplessly and her eyes wide with fear she stared in silent horror as it all happened far faster than she had any hope of reacting-

_Open, ominous maw..._

-There was not a single thing she could do to change this dreadful outcome. 'This couldn't be happening!', she mentally screamed in anguish at herself. Yet, deep down, she knew... This was remuneration for accepting her new lot in life that she was promised, and one that she would have to pay dearly. This was what she would get for bringing others into this life of hers. The girl was incredulous, but she still understood that she would suffer the consequences of her own undoing-

_Sharp teeth..._

-Because even though she was a Puella Magi, she was still human and at the mercy of cruel, merciless, and often unkind Fate-

Thus, she stared into the yawning abyss that would steal her life away in one swift, messy snap of its powerful sharklike jaws, afraid and disbelieving and resigned...

That was when the whistling bolts of silvery light slammed into the Witch's head with an explosive force like minaturized battering rams. With the ease of a hurled ragdoll it tumbled to the side of its barrier, roaring an inhuman bellow that was more akin to mad guffawing than a proper scream of pain.

...And then, a figure in red whoosed by in hot pursuit.

She blunk once in response, and then twice.

Her eyes again widened when she saw a pair of ebony and ivory blades appear in his hands with a flash of light. She felt slight confusion when she detected the telltale influx of magical power waft from the man, for while she could clearly tell that he was certainly no magical girl he had doubtlessly used some form of magic to seemingly create those weapons from thin air.

However, the golden haired girl could spare no time to ponder the significance of this when the battle against the Witch had resumed, with the man in red and black silently carrying on in her stead, taking on her role of Witch-Hunter.

Hunks of strange not-flesh had flown from the Witch's body and littered the ground upon the impact of those projectiles, but the damage might as well have been aesthetic for all the good that it did to impede the Witch that had almost devoured her in a single gulp. The Witch slithered like a caterpillar and lashed like a snake, shaking the area every time it slammed to the ground attack. Flashing steel struck against razor-edged teeth and the dark flank of the Witch as he answered the serpentine thrashing attacks with deft parries and counters of his own. Swift blows were traded equally from both parties with neither side seeming to claim the advantage.

Wait-  
>-That was wrong.<p>

The Witch, powerful and fearsome as it was, had far more in common with a wild animal than a person, presuming that such an assumption could be made about something as alien and different from a human as anything could ever be. While it was certainly true that it had some form of intelligence, this Witch was more a creature of instinct than logical, rational thought. Unlike the undoubtedly experienced man it was fighting to the death with, it could not reasonably forumalate or strategize anything to deal with this threat to its current existence. That was the major difference between the man and the Witch.

But- to compensate for this glaring weakness it possessed, the Witch had an _unnatural_resilience to damage, among other traits that made hunting this particular one a nightmarishly hellish experience for any unaware Puella Magi...such as herself.

It was a stalemate. a war of atrition between man and monster, not unlike the battles fought during ancient times when legendary beasts roamed the earth during the time of civilization's infancy.

-For a moment, anyway.

His swords were gone, banished to the ether he had pulled them from, and the man in the red mantle leapt back and put distance between himself and the demented grinning clownish caterpillar. The swords he had dismissed were replaced with a firm-looking bow, notched with a shining golden weapon that was wider at its base than its tip that was aimed right for the incoming Witch.

_He narrowed his eyes, and drew back on the bow string..._

It lunged for him.  
>It snarled like a laughing clown.<br>It had a predatory gleam in its dead, dollish eyes.  
>It hungered for his corded flesh.<br>It practically drooled the entire time it was fighting.

_...And the Diamond Pounder shot straight down the Witch's gullet._

A split second later a detonation that roared like thunder exploded destructively like a potent, volatile bomb somewhere in its midsection, just below the "neck" of the head and in the first stretches of the thing's throat. Its long, serpentine body ruptured violently, blowing away massive chunks of Witch like a fleshy waterballoon, leaving just a few stringy strands of whatever equated to skin and bone for this particular creature. She knew a serious wound like that would be enough to send any living creature into shock, if not outright kill it instantly.

But the Witch still lived. In the form of a tiny pink children's doll, its original form, it abandoned the irreparable, limp, broken, ugly black shape that it had morphed into earlier in an attempt to get away from the red and black _thing_that had nearly destroyed it so thoroughly.

...that was shortlived.

He jumped again, only this time to chase after his fleeing foe. A flash of light - of magic - and the man's twin swords were back, only to be replaced an instant later. No, they were not replaced, she realized, just merely _altered_. _Altered_into souped-up variants that resembled a beautiful pair of black and white wings. Their length was increased immensly, and without a doubt so was their power.

The last thing the Witch knew before it was anhilated was being on the receiving end scissoring attack using the sharp edges of both his swords sliced the head off of the tiny pink Witch in one clean, swift motion.

With that, it was over.

And Mami Tomoe slumped to her knees, feeling as exhausted and helpless as the little girl that she truly was.

**X****th**

The world around distorted with the Witch's deaththroes. The man alighted on the ground with a soft thud and began to casually walk away. Mami Tomoe could clearly make out the features of the man that had apparently saved her life. The short white hair that stood up in spikes, his tanned, golden skintone, and his piercing steel-grey eyes seemed to bore into her when he turned and made eye contact with her. He stared - no, glared - at the yellow Puella Magi, almost as if he were silently judging her.

No, she knew this feeling.  
>It was more like disapproval than anything else.<p>

"A true soldier does not lose themselves to their emotional highs and lows." His tone was even and stern, critical too. "Especially one as experienced as you, Mami Tomoe. Not only did you compromise yourself, but you also compromised the lives of your companions. And such a person who gives in to that has no right to fight on a battlefield."

...she felt her eyes begin to water, but only because she could not reasonably refute a single word that the man was saying to her, because she knew that he was certainly in the right. Not without being defiant and stubborn for the sake of being defiant and stubborn.

She had been careless, and as such she had been so close to almost paying the price with her own blood. She knew that much. Worse still, she might have endangered Madoka and Sayaka with her follies. If that had happened, she knew that Madoka would have surely mourned her death, and for whatever reason the knowledge of that certainty ate her up inside and made her feel like she could vomit.

"You know better than that. But, even though failure was entirely plausible at least the danger has come to pass." He still wore that cold expression, but somehow it seemed a little warmer, if only barely, "Do not forget: you have been granted a second chance at this. You will live to fight more battles, battles with which you can use to redeem yourself. Do not waste this opportunity, otherwise you shall regret it even worse than if you had just died here and now."

Mami tipped her hat in shame in a way that obscured her eyes. "Oh...okay then. I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you should apologize to." He replied, motioning to the pink and blue-haired girls off in the distance crouching behind the giant frosted donut that was rapidly fading into nothingness.

All of this was still much to take in, even for her. But somehow, it seemed a little better than it had before. "Y-you're right. You're absolutely right, sir."

"If you want a name for future reference, then just call me 'Archer', Mami Tomoe. Like how everybody does." A curt answer. But before Mami could reply, Archer seemed to be interupted by something. "Alright. Alright. Yes, taken care, as you can see from here. Very well, I'm going then, Master."

With a brief farewell, too short to even be considered a proper one, the red man who had definitely saved her from certain death slipped away from their sight, like a crimson-veiled phantom.

Homura Akemi watched the entire ordeal and the proceeding interactions between her knight and the golden girl from a distance through the scope of a high caliber sniper rifle.

**X****th**

When all was said and done, the two bystanders had stark opinions of what the recent turn of events portended for the future of their gang of comrades and friends. On one hand, Madoka Kaname seemed uncertain and apprehensive to Witch Hunting, but not without a _strong_curiosity that stifled her feelings of doubt and would have laid to rest those feelings were it not for her strong rational side. On the other hand...Sayaka Miki became enthralled to the point of being wholly enamored with the concept of becoming a "Hero of Justice", someone like that man in red who swooped down out of nowhere, whaled on the Witch and provided excellent - albeit unexpected - backup for Mami in her time of need.

"You know, if I can help you fight then there's no way a Witch can stand up to both of our power!" Sayaka enthusiastically mused while conversing with Mami, heedless of the danger because she was able to see just how much of the tide of battle a 'partner' was able to turn. "What do you think about that, Mami-san?"

"But it's dangerous, you know?" Her words displayed her concern for Sayaka, but Mami was definitely more at ease and had composed herself since the near-fatality she had almost experienced. If anything, almost dying had done wonders for her mentality as a friend to Sayaka and Madoka _and _as a Puella Magi.

"And THAT is why you need me! Or at least someone to help you out if you get into a pinch. C'mon Mami-san, what do you say~?"

Mami merely smiled,"You should find something really worth wishing for before you decide on this, _then_ you can go visit Kyubey whenever you want." The message was more-or-less clear: _'Don't you dare forge a Contract without thinking it over long and hard, and if you do decide to go with it then don't squander it on anything worthless that has no meaning to you that you will come back to regret later on.'_

"Blegh," Sayaka moaned as she nevertheless agreed to follow Mami's advice, "Fine, whatever you say. I'll abstain for a while until its safe and I'm good and ready. Sheesh."

"You sound like a daughter complaining about promising her mother that she won't date anyone until she moves out of the house, Sayaka-chan." Madoka giggled.

Sayaka's expression went from dour and bummed-out to sneaky and lecherous in a heartbeat. "Really, Madoka-channnnn~? You sound like you're oh-so familiar with a concept like that~?" Sayaka's hands lewdly clawed in Madoka's general direction, "Spill it! Who's the guy! Or is it _a girl?_Or maybe it isn't even human~?"

"S-S-Sayaka! Get away from me! Hey! Don't touch me there!"

"No one suspects the Miki, Madoka-channnn! Confess!"

...Mami just smiled and sipped tea, relieved that after their hair-raising adventure that things had gone back to some semblance of a peaceful life, far-too temporary and illusory that it might be in actuality. All the while she never stopped thinking about the man in red and what he had to say to her. She had decided that she would take his callous words of guidance to heart, and would follow them to the grave.

As she breathed in the exquisite aroma of that blend of Earl Grey that she brewed, Mami idly wondered _when _she would meet that man again, the closest thing she had to a mentor-figure of sorts, and pondered what sort of other things he could teach about about life, death, living and what it meant for the fleeting existence of of warrior-souls such as themselves.

**X****th**

Elsewhere, in Homura's apartment, things were going along swimmingly.

Except for one thing...

"...Archer." He tone seemed almost...accusatory.

"Hmm?"

"You're fatigued, aren't you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I can tell," Homura's eyes narrowed slightly, "You do not seem as...perky."

A single grey eyebrow of his raised. "...perky? Is that your word for it?"

"Well? Stop making this seem like pulling teeth and answer me. Are you or are you not fatigued?"

"...a little."

"This could be serious. You're my familiar, so tell me - What can I do to assist you?"

"It's really not that bad. I just overexerted myself a tad in those last battles of ours. It is nothing to be concerned about. I'm only a tad depleted, prana wise, and the magic isn't regenerating as promptly as I would want it to." Archer explained, "With rest I should be able to recover back to my fighting potential...theoretically speaking."

"How much rest is required for your stores to replenish themselves back to maximum capacity?" Homura inquired.

"With _our_connection, I do not know. My estimate is that if I do not exert myself at all during the next, say twenty-four to thirty-seven hours then that should be adequate enough." He shrugged slightly, acknowledging how he might be wrong since he did not account for any sort of margin of error.

"Does it really have to be that long? Is there no other way to speed up the regeneration process?"

Archer shrugged again. "I could draw a runic circle that siphons the mana directly from the air and recharge inside of it that way like a magical cellphone charging station, but I wouldn't guarantee on it working. My skill is adequate enough for at least that, but if I don't have anyone to spotcheck for me then I could make a serious error and ruin it all. Magic of that sort isn't my usual forte because I only have a passing knowledge of Magecraft, remember? Otherwise if that's a bust, then I'll have to wait it out the old fashioned way, filter feeding mana like a Ghost Liner sponge."

Homura nodded briefly in response to Archer's words. "We cannot afford to wait for so long without backup, now that this World Line has diverged with the prevention of Mami Tomoe's death. You say that if you had assistance, you could make it work?"

"Maybe. Drawing and reagent placement is an exact science, at least for this one."

"...tell me what I need to do."

* * *

><p>Too bad this update is just the <em>Xth Loop: Realta Nua<em>variant, otherwise this scene would have obviously become a little more...aquatic. :3

Oh, yeah, Homura is getting some hands-on training with actual magecraft now. Howabout that? It's not much for now, but it's a start. And not to mention incredibly relevant later on.

Also, Mammies finally made her debut, Of course, so did Sayaka and Madoka, too. Eh.

And now, I sleep. Sleep, and be restored!


	10. Chapter VI: The Wheel Stops for None

Happy New Year, readers~! Let's kick 2012 off with a start, shall we?

Also, Sora Wa Kakeru Shojo reference in here. Cookies to who finds it.

Also, my fastest update ever. Hope it's satisfactory. Another also, we pass our first milestone in this chapter. Howabout that?

Anyway, without further ado here you go:

**- Chapter 8 -**  
><strong>The Turning Wheel Stops for No One<strong>

Some things never changed.

Some things never ever changed.

Some things seemed eternally perennial, no matter the day or age. Like schools, children going to schools, and how children behave in aforementioned schools.

Even though it had been years since he attended a school of his own - even when he was just a normal human and not including the countless accumulated eons he spent as a hero in the Throne - to Archer it was almost like he had never left. He could randomly select any one of the students sitting at their desks and easily draw a nearly identical analogy to someone who was once a classmate of his. He found it remarkable, and yet Archer also though it was comfortingly familiar in an indescribable way, a relaxing, nostalgic way.

It was not the most groundshaking of epiphanies to ever be had, but it was then that Archer realized that the atmosphere of a classroom was definitely something that he had taken for granted.

_'How are you feeling?'_He heard the voice of his Master in his head, the girl sitting at the desk he was silently standing beside, invisible to any and all onlookers.

_'Dandy,'_ Archer brusquely replied, _'Why do you ask?'_

_'I wanted to make sure that you did not feel out of your element in this environment,'_ Homura rationalized, _'You describe yourself as a soldier first and foremost, after all.'_

_'Don't take me for a stranger in a strange land because of the way that I am. I think it's actually quite comfortable being here. It feels like I'm back in school again. After all, I_ was _a human who lived in modern society in my time.'_

_'Odd. I did not take you to be a sentimental person.'_

_'I did not take myself to be a sentimental person either, until I started living again,'_ He began to explain, for no other reason than the sake of talking with Homura in order to kill time during a lesson she had surely learned a thousand times over, _'Everything here has a strange air of familiarity to it, but that is not a bad thing. The students who come to class day-in and day-out, the scratching of pens and pencils on paper or the clicking of personal handheld devices in the background, the menially blissful chatter of conversation, the act of sitting at desks and listening to lectures while likely being bored out of their minds, all of it is familiar. Even that teacher of yours...what was her name again?'_

_'Kazuko Saotome.'_Homura confirmed through their mental link.

_'Yes, even her. I've had a teacher that was similar to her before. Not exactly the same, that's for sure, but I cannot deny that they share some similarities. It is unknown if she suffered from the same problems as this one, but the resemblances that are there are somewhat...uncanny, for lack of a better word.'_

He probably shrugged at this point.

_'Still, is it safe to presume that you do not mind the wait you are being put through?'_

_'I used to be a sniper, Master. Waits like these are cakewalks. I could stalk a target for weeks if I needed to. A couple of hours aren't going to kill me. Besides, there are worse ways for me to pass the time than people watching.'_ If Homura was able to see her Servant in his incorporeal form, she might have been able to sneak a glimpse of a small smile on his face, one that was barely noticeable even if one were able to see the man she had Contracted with. _'Your concern is not unappreciated, though.'_

Lately, it seemed as if Homura inquired into the Familiar's state of being more frequently than she had when they first started their partnership. Archer chalked this up to the fact the their spiritual connection was noticeably weaker than it ideally should have been in a Master/Familiar relationship, which in turn led to his Master having to confirm his current status at the time herself, and having to take only his word on it, since she was unable to discern it just by feeling him through the link they shared. Archer was not surprised by this. A Ghost Liner was a Familiar of the highest order second only to the Servants that were summoned by the Heaven's Feel ritual that was based in Fuyuki City, and it was a unique challenge in their own right to maintain one properly on a consistent basis by even a veteran magus backed with years of experience, to say nothing of a young girl who had such little magical potential in the first place who made up for it with a powerful ability who had bonded with him through a combination of fated providence and dumb luck.

...then again, it could be something else, if not professional concern then another entirely different motive. Homura, for all she disclosed to him, was an undeniably inscrutable Master. For all the knowledge that they shared with each other during the debriefing at the beginning of the time loop, Archer suspected that she still had plenty of secrets of her own that she wasn't telling him. No, he was _absolutely certain_ she was keeping secrets from him. Archer knew about Homura Akemi, but he did not know _Homura Akemi_. He knew motives, but he did not know hopes. He knew objectives, but he did not know fears or insecurities. There was still much about her he did not know, and vice-versa.

He was content with the way things were.

It would do her no good to learn about his past. Where he came from, how he grew, what led to the position he was in today, and his final days- it was pointless, an unnecessary thing. That was just extraneous information, which of course was useless to her and how it would further their goals. Likewise, Archer strongly felt there was no reason to further delve into Homura's backstory either. He did not need to understand or accept the troubled past she doubtlessly possessed in order to work with her. Even if they knew nothing about each other at the very least there was certainly a trust shared between them.

…and in the end, wasn't that a good enough reason?

**X****th**

"Something troubling you, Master?" Archer, standing next to his Master and no longer restricting himself to spirit form in the privacy of their secure location, asked Homura during the lunch break.

"I am not troubled. I am just, thoughtful." Homura said as she cracked open a carton of milk she had chosen to drink with her lunch. "I was wondering how the progress of your restoration is coming along."

"You're still worried about that? Don't be anymore. The circle is still doing its work, amazingly enough, considering how much of a hodgepodge it is. I am now guaranteed to be back to 100% potential within thirty hours, even if I were to rely solely on the remote regeneration provided by it."

Archer was not exaggerating. It was indeed almost miraculous that the magical circle that he and Homura drew together even worked. Their little project was definitely nothing to write home about, which consisted of a basic, haggard-looking Formalcraft circle meant for the siphoning and channeling of mana that served as the base and was supplemented by a handful of strategically placed scratchings of _Cartogracraft_– a variety of Magecraft he had tried to pick up at one point similar to the Runes of Celtic magi in terms of execution that more complicated to replicate yet more easily accessible to someone like him – that would serve as the metaphorical glue that held the shoddy ritual together. In addition to that, there was even one of those aforementioned Celtic Runes etched in as part of the ritual as well, for good measure and an attempt to compensate for what the prana-restoration circle was surely lacking. This was made all the more difficult to apply and execute due to how Archer had an "anti-affinity" for most Magecraft not derived from his Reality Marble which made practicing difficult. The knowledge was there, of course, it was just harder to achieve.

…In the end, it was not so much a science brimming with detail-oriented exact calculations like Magecraft normally was so much as it was a patchwork bastard-child that left something to be desired spawned of the various schools of Magecraft that Archer knew. That should not have even worked in the first place cobbled together like that. At all.

"You were not kidding when you said that you had low compatibility with other types of magic." Homura stated as she coolly sipped from her milk and speared a piece of lunch on her chopsticks, remembering the tiring night before.

"That's just as well - I'm a warrior, not a wizard. I always was. I'm unfit to be a scholar. Not by choice, mind you. I'd have loved to have a greater Magecraft repertoire at my disposal so that I wasn't so single-faceted back in my day, but as wise men know, the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak." Archer confessed without a hint of regret, "But there is no sense in crying over spilt milk now is there?"

"It _is_a long time to have to wait for you to replenish yourself, but it cannot be helped. There are no alternatives to that other than just waiting around. I still wish there was more I could do to ensure the process went by more smoothly. "

"You shouldn't obsess over what you cannot achieve, especially if that thing is the capability to do magic. No good will come of that, I can guarantee it."

"Of course I know that. But if there is any way to increase the efficiency, then I'll opt for that method." Homura said before taking another bite of food.

"There were other methods that we did not utilize for various reasons that would have yielded more immediate results." Archer admitted.

Homura's curiosity seemed…piqued, if only a little. "Like what?"

"For one, I could have been going around devouring living souls in order to restore my life force."

"More death?" Homura blankly replied. "How unappealing."

"Your response is interesting, considering where you come from. That's all I have to say."

"Are there any other methods?"

"There _are_a couple other less violent methods that I know of, but those were rather, well, unlikely in our current situation."

"Such as?"

"It's unnecessary for you to know about that information, Master. We're doing fine as is."

"I insist."

"Are you…certain?"

''Quite.''

There was no escape from an inquisitive Homura Akemi, it seemed. At least, not without taking one of the many ways available to cowards.

"Well…"

Archer then proceeded to explain a Prana Exchange in detail.

_Everything about a Prana Exchange in detail._

Then he proceeded to explain how a Shared Contract could be established in detail.

_Everything about how a Shared Contract could be established in detail._

The situation became decidedly more awkward when Homura Akemi unceremoniously snorted her milk through her nose the minute the discussion went the way that it did, much to Archer's well-concealed surprise. It was almost surreal to watch, and more than a little bit amusing. Even someone such as her – who had repeatedly gone through all those traumatic experiences and lost so much again and again to the point where it forced her to close off her heart to even the ones she cared for the most for their own sake – could still be immature enough to be caught off guard by an impromptu discussion about the birds and the bees, proof that she was still a little girl at heart deep beneath that impassionate and cold exterior.

Archer felt that no matter what happened between now and the beginning of the end, he wanted to cherish this memory for as long as possible.

"With that, I am now going to take a walk. Ciao, Master."

"Hey! W-w-wait!" Homura sputtered, "Don't just _leave_after you told me all that!"

"Well, what else is there for me to do? Give a first-hand demonstration? Later."

Without another word wasted, it was then that Archer decided to ghost away into astral form and promptly leave the uncharacteristically flustered Homura on her own.

Oh yes, he would make sure to never forget this any time soon.

**X****th**

Some time later – with Homura left behind him – Archer walk led him to the school's roof. As he indulged in the luxury of materializing into a physical, visible form Archer allowed himself to gaze at the city that stretched out for miles around him, looking like an endless sea of steel, glass and concrete that threatened to consume the horizon. The sheer sight of it all was humbling, but in a way that did not belittle his existence and instead somehow soothed and calmed his weary soul in a way that he could not quite put into proper words. If he had to somehow describe it, he would liken it to the overwhelming feeling that one gets when faced with a majestic site, such as that of a venerable, ancient mountain range or a deep, mysterious canyon with a bottom that is lost in the perpetual fog that enshrouds the rocky walls below.

In short, he found that he was enjoying his down time, the short break that was the calm in the storm that soundlessly raged everywhere else in this city on a nightly basis, serving as the backdrop to dramas that were mercifully not witnessed by normal humans. He did not mind it at all one bit.

Then, Archer turned his head from the sprawling, awe-inspiring cityscape of Mitikihara to elsewhere…

…And that was when he stumbled upon her…

…That was when Archer met Madoka Kaname.

Truth be told, her appearance here did not catch Archer off-guard. In actuality, he was very unsurprised to see her in this place. After all, it was not as if he were unaware of her presence. If anything, it was more like he was simply paying it no heed at that given time. That is to say, until he could no longer ignore the fact that she was there.

But the question remained…if Archer really knew that Madoka Kaname was up on the roof that he was going to, then why did he end up there in the first place?

Was he, perhaps, drawn here?

If so, then for what reason? He questioned this not because he could not figure out a plausible reason, but because there were so many explanations he could come up with for this seemingly inconsequential coincidence.

Still, when all was said and done…

This was Madoka Kaname.

This was the girl that Homura Akemi found so dear.

This was the girl who gave her a reason to plunge herself into a hell of her own choosing over and over and over.

This was the girl who held it all together, the beginning and the end to his and his Master's story, the figure who served as bookends to this tale of theirs.

…This was the girl who would destroy the world.

_'…right?'_

This unassuming, powerless, kind, cute, pink-haired schoolgirl had the potential to transform into the greatest Witch that ever existed, a beast that he had surely fought against untold times in many, many failed World Lines as a Counter Guardian safeguarding the continued existence of human life.

He could believe that. He could believe it far more easily than he should, but that did not change anything. It did not change the fact he could believe it as easily as a young child could believe in the existence of Santa Claus. He blamed it all on past experiences. Oh how did it blame it all.

That should bother him on a subconscious level, and yet it did not one bit. Again, he was unsurprised by this. Eons ago he gave up on his own humanity for the sake of saving everyone in his path, a humanity that he traded away for the pursuit of an unachievable ideal that he nevertheless found beautiful. He gave up on being human…in order to become a sweeper.

A role that he had the distinctive inkling he was slowly slipping into more with every passing moment.

-Focused.  
>-Tense.<br>-The hammer of a pistol clicking back…

This was all an automatic response at this point, wasn't it?

…Of course it was.

…He drilled those instincts in himself.

There she was. There was Madoka Kaname, the innocent harbinger herself, sitting there, looking content on that bench as a cat in a sunbeam, humming a gentle, happy tune to herself while she probably waited for her friends to show up to eat lunch with her.

There she was…looking so utterly vulnerable with her delicate neck that looked like it would snap in one of his powerful, calloused hands.

Archer banished all thoughts from his mind, and with that all impulsive activity that was being queued up to take place. This was not something to be done rashly, no. This was something that needed to be considered thoroughly before any finalized actions were taken. Archer had to think this over.

_-So he did._

_"Archerrrr!"_Homura wailed when she burst through the door to the rooftop area where she knew that something horrible had just taken place.

…something that she could never truly get used to, no matter how many times she encountered it.

She saw it all with her own eyes:

A disturbingly large pool of gleaming red blood that reflected the empty skies above…  
>…The blood of Madoka Kaname's decapitated corpse….<br>…and her Familiar standing over the body of her murdered friend like a crimson-winged angel of death, a red reaper with fresh wet blood staining his twin falchions. wearing a dishearteningly impassive expression on his face that gleamed with just a hint of sadness.

This was all too familiar to Homura; this denial that she repeatedly screamed in her head that ached of visceral, gut-wrenching denial that drove in the dagger of betrayal – and failure – deeper and deeper into her soul.

"Archer! Why?" That was all she could ask. Those were the only words that she wanted to say, words that she wanted to ask the man in red.

"She never felt a thing." Her former partner only replied. "She never saw it coming. It was over in flash."

The silver-haired man looked to her, and it made Homura freeze on the spot. Something about his was so…_off._Something about her Familiar right now was so off that she was not even of sound enough mind to again restart anew the process of reversing time so that she could do this all over just like she always did. It disturbed her beyond all reasoning.

"This was not an easy decision for me to make, I can assure you, Master." His expression – it was truly unreadable.

Homura did not understand anything. But, maybe, perhaps she understood enough. In a way, she felt like one of those people who take it upon themselves to try to raise a wild animal as a pet, thinking that all of the experiences they shared over time would be enough to groom and condition said animal as a loyal pet, only to have it all spiral beyond their control in a final, bitter end that would only serve as a tragic cautionary tale to anyone foolish enough to go the same route that she did.

When it came down to it, he was what he was: A killer for the sake of justice.

"But…this is all for the best. I do not need to justify my actions for you, since you surely wouldn't agree with them, but I still somehow believe that I owe you at least this much for all we've been through together. So before you abandon everything, at least hear what I have to say…to you."

Homura could not leave this time, even if she wanted to. Not in the face of _this_.

"I have seen the future. It is a future that you are quite intimate with. You, of all people, know more of this than anyone else in the world. You know that the future hold _nothing_. There are no hopes in the future that we trudge towards."

Archer stepped closer, emphasizing his point.  
>Likewise, Homura subconsciously took a step back.<p>

"Know when to call it a day. Know when to quit. Know when to give up. Know when to turn your back on that illusory dream you foolishly chase forever. Obsession leads to disaster. If an opportunity presents itself that offers even the slimmest chance of success then deny it. Vehemently. It is just a pipe dream. It is just a lie. To think it as anything else is just a lie, too."

"I do this is to preserve the future that you ruined a thousand thousand times over," Archer said. "It is hopeless."

Suddenly, Homura regained what little of herself there was left. The gears in her shield cranked and turned like a formula one racecar.

-she was trying to leap again.

"No!" Archer bellowed.

-Unfortunately, time was not on her side.

A flash of light – the flashing of silvery steel, serving as a prelude to pain. Both of her arms were gone, sliced off from the elbow up. Her lifeblood spurted from the gory stumps like free-flowing vermillion water. It hurt almost as much as when she first dueled Archer in that apocalyptic wasteland with Kriemhild Gretchen screeching in the background. But it did not hurt because of the pain…it hurt because of the intense sorrow she had no idea she was still capable of feeling.

"What about the promise? …Our promise? …Madoka's promise?"

"There…was no promise," Archer said with a tone of reserved melancholy. "After all, I have never been able to keep a promise in my life. Not from a lack of trying, mind you."

Yes- she was certain that she was crying right now. Her tears ran like her blood; uninhibited and despairing.

"Still…" The man continued, looking as if he were flickering in and out of existence. Homura could not tell whether it was because her tears wear obscuring all that she saw like murky windowpanes or if the connection that she shared with Archer was truly severed once and for all. "I stayed with you so that I could protect this world from Armageddon at the hands of those Witches that are the bane of your existence. So in a way, through this turn of events wrought by my own hands of my own volition, I helping you in that way. Madoka Kaname dies…you die…I die…this whole city serves as one gigantic sacrificial lamb in the days to come…and everyone else lives."

Was…was that steel-eyed man who had ruined it all for her…also crying?

– No.

He definitely was not.

"Our alliance ends here, Master. It ends here and now. Goodbye. I truly appreciated all of the time we spent together."

That was when Homura felt the final screams of her Soul Gem as it was utterly decimated in a swift attack.

Then all went black, empty, silent.

_It was the worst disaster that Mitikihara had ever known. Never before had the city been so utterly violated by a chain of unfortunate circumstances that had accumulated into such a horrific disaster. The high speed winds of an unseasonal typhoon that ripped windows from their panes like scattered flower petals and blew down trees and buildings alike, the acid rain that froze in the sky and turned to toxic slush that pockmarked even cement with its burning chemical sludge, the decimating earthquakes which shredded the roads like paper and broke open lines of flammable, hallucinatory gas which ignited hundred of fires citywide and induced a wave of seizures, and hysteria across the city…there was nothing like it in modern memory._

It aftermath was…staggering. Untold amounts of property damage totaling in the billions were nothing in the face of the mindboggling, nightmarish death toll which left only a fraction of the city's population as survivors to the great disaster.

But their great loss was, fortunately, not in vain.

For with Mitikihara's death, the world lived on.

Walpurgisnacht came, like it was supposed to. Without a single Puella Magi powerful enough to bring a stop to it, Walpurgisnacht frolicked and made merry in the city like there was no tomorrow. In a way, for both it and the denizens of the ill-fated town, there was indeed no tomorrow. The entire Mitikihara Disaster was the result of the arrival of the Walpurgisnacht. Yet…Waplurgisnacht went as it had came, without a single ounce of fanfare in its wake. Nothing to signify its passing that the ruins of the once proud and noble city that it had totally savaged during its time in existence.

But still, the world kept on turning in spite of this.

No one would ever know that this was all because of a single man who was undoubtedly a hero for saving the world.

…all of the world except poor Mitikihara City.

But the story does not end there:

The next time a girl who even came close to achieving a fraction of Madoka Kaname's wish potential was recruited to the ranks of the Puella Magi was only a mere two hundred years later.

The Counter Guardian was there to deal with her when she gave in to despair and threatened to consume the world with enshrouding darkness.

Just like he always would when humanity was in danger, just like the hero he always wanted to be.

**Bad End**

* * *

><p><strong>-<strong>**  
><strong>**=Homerun Dojo=****  
><strong>**-**

_*Archer materializes in a classically-styled dojo and comes face to face with Homura. She is...less than pleased in light of recent events*_

Homura (*wearing her baseball uniform – complete with short shorts – and clutching her bat dangerously, all the while visibly writhing with rage*):  
>ARRRRRRCHERRRRRRRRR...<p>

Archer (*sweatdropping like a little bitch*):  
>Hoo boy.<p>

Homura (*teeth are a-grindin'*):  
>YOOOOOOUUUUU...<p>

Archer(*growing increasingly nervous*):  
>Can you at least hear me out before you let loose your terrible wrath, which of course you are one hunderd percent entitled to, Mast-<p>

Homura (*the bat gets a-raised*):  
>BIIIIIGGGGGG...<p>

Archer (*totally freaking out*):  
>W-wait! Homura! I c-can explain everything! I...I...!<br>_*droplets of blood drip from the still bloody Kanshou and Bakuya Archer was holding on to*_  
>...crap.<p>

Homura (*BRINGING DOWN THE HAMMER*):

_*KRACK!*_  
>(Archer gets smacked with Homura's baseball bat. HARD)<br>You're a sleeazeball! What on Earth is wrong with you? You're horrible, you know that? You'll pay for this! You cold-hearted murderer! In fact, snowmen have warmer hearts than that block of black ice you have in your chest, you heartless monster! You're such a _tool_ - a _tool for destruction!_That's all you know how to do, isn't it? You killer! You're a dung beetle, Archer! No! Scratch that! You're even worse than that! You're the dung that dung beetles roll around! You're poop! Poop! Poop Archer! Dung-ball Archer! Stinky dung-ball killer Archer with an empty heart and a black soul!

Archer (*getting whale'd on*):  
>Okay! Okay! <em>*BONK*<em> I get it, alright? You have a right to be _*BONK*_ mad! I know that _*BONK*_ I messed up! It's a **BAD** _*BONK*_ **ENDING** for a reason! So please _*BONK*_ stop hitting me and dishing out the horrendous _*BONK*_ verbal abuse! This isn't going to solve _*BONK*_ anything or _*BONK*_progress the storyyyy!

Homura (*still mad*):  
>What you did to me was bad enough, but what you did to MADOKAAAAA-SAMA~~~ is UNACCEPTABLE! You should be ashamed of yourself, you worthless hero of justice who can't save anything!<em>*BONKBONKBONKBONK*<em>

Archer (*the damage is building up*):  
>Can we stop this <em>*BONK*<em> please? Everything's _*BONK*_ going dim, and I swear I see a little _*BONK*_light in the distance.

Homura (*_still_ mad*):  
>It had better be going dim, you <em>*BONK*<em> sack _*BONK*_ of _*BONK*_garbage S&M bondage dirty old man lolicon pervert!

Archer (*wut*):  
>Wait, what does any of that have to do with- <strong>*BONK*<strong>OWWW!

Homura (*swiftly punts Archer in the seat of his pants with a highkick to boot him out of the Dojo):  
>Get the hell out of here and go fix that mess you made! Out of my sight! Idiot!<p>

...

...

...

...

...geez, he's hopeless.

Lancer:  
>LOL<p>

* * *

><p><strong>X<strong>**th**

That was when Madoka Kaname and the man known as Archer finally met, face-to-face.

"Oh!" The girl squeaked when she saw him, "You're that man, aren't you?"

"Pardon?" Archer simply replied even though he had a feeling he knew what she was referring to.

"I'm sorry." Madoka started over again, wanting to make a good impression on the man in red, "What I mean is, you're Homura-chan's friend, right?"

"Oh. Yes, I am."

"I'm sorry. Was…that supposed to be a secret?"

"Not really." He answered. That was when something began to nag at Archer, just a little…namely the fact that he had not yet formally introduced himself as Homura's partner. This rang suspicious to him. "But I have to ask: how do you know that?"

Madoka seemed a little confused by Archer's question, but she seemed to handle it well as she tried to puzzle out an answer for him. "How do I know? Well, I…hmm, how _do_I know that, anyway? I'm sorry, but I can't seem to remember. That's so strange."

_'Nothing. Oh well, it's not like it mattered much anyway. I just wanted to sate some curiosity.'_

"That's alright. It was not that important anyway."

"So…what are you doing here?" Madoka asked.

Archer looked up to the sky, that blissfully clear and innocent looking blue sky that was devoid of any dark rainclouds. "I'm just taking a walk during my Master's lunchbreak."

" 'Master?' " Madoka repeated the word Archer said, "Umm…i-is that su-supposed to be a secret, too?"

"No, that's not a secret either." Archer confirmed to her. "And don't interpret it that way either. Neither of us want to be getting the wrong idea, do we?"

"No. I suppose not." Madoka smiled a little when Archer made that joke of his. Did it even occur to him that he was joking at all then and there? Even he felt that to be somewhat…strange. "By the way, I really appreciate what you did for Mami-san. All of us do. If you had not shown up when you did then she might have…well, died."

'Might _have died?'_Archer snarked to himself, although he was tactful enough to not say it out loud and needlessly hurt Madoka's feelings. At this point she was still an innocent, just a bystander watching the impending dramas unfold around her. She was not an enemy or a threat, she was just one who was caught up in all of this. "There wasn't anything to it. Even though it was an order, I merely did what was expected. I really do not deserve thanks for that."

"Well, I think you do, Mister. So, thank you."

"Don't mention it. Really, don't."

Madoka couldn't help but smile again. "Oh. I'm sorry but I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Madoka Kaname. What is your name?"

"Just 'Archer' will do, Madoka. And just so you know, that is not a secret either."

"Thank you, Archer. Thanks for everything, too."

A few more moments of silence passed by, with neither the schoolgirl nor the former Familiar exchanging words with another. Since he sensed that the conversation was now at an end, Archer decided that now was an acceptable time to dust himself off and go to parts unknown in the school…or at least to where he had last ditched Homura. As he turned to walk away from the roof and slip away into astral form so he could walk the halls of the school unmolested Madoka spoke once again.

"Excuse me, Archer?"

"Can I help you?"

"I…I just wanted to ask you something. Is that okay?"

"That depends on what that 'something' is, but I suppose that you may."

"Since you are Homura-chan's friend…would you be okay with it if I were also _your_friend as well?"

"…I don't suppose there would be any harm in that." He truthfully answered. "Very well then, I accept your friendship."

"Thank you very much. It means a lot to me." Madoka replied honestly. "Do be sure to help Homura-chan, alright? She seems like she could really use it."

Archer cracked a tiny fraction of a smile when he heard this. "…I'll do what I can, Miss Madoka."

With that, the bowman disappeared without a trace like a ghost.

The very next second the door opened up and Sayaka Miki, Mami Tomoe walked over to her and sat down beside Madoka with their own lunches in tow.

"Hey, Madoka, what was going on? You've got this weird look on your face that I wanna know more about." Sayaka Miki said.

"I just saw that red man." Madoka answered. "Oh, and I think I just made friends with him."

**X****th**

"Freaking headhunters," Kyouko complained, wiping the blood that trickled from the gash in her forehead as she slumped down to a sitting position on the floor in the middle of the colorful rainforest that was a part of the Witch's Barrier. "Creeps nearly gave me a run for my money. I still showed them what happens when they mess with Kyouko Sakura, so that counts for something." She scanned the destruction around her that she wrought with her deft spear-work, taking in the aftermath of the intense battle that had concluded only moments before. The bodies of slain Familiars that had yet to dissipate with the defeat of the local Witch laid strewn all over, still spasmodically twitching in their death throes.

_'Still,'_ A thought occurred to her, _'Is it just me, or was that Witch_ abnormally _strong? Thinking about it now, haven't the Witches gotten a lot stronger lately? They wouldn't happen to be...adapting...would they? Is that even possible, the collective-evolution of Witches as whole?'_Events like these could quite troubling if they went unchecked, and the last thing she or any other Puella Magi wanted was a coven of Super Witches nesting in Mitikihara.

But after being allowed a moment to compose herself, Kyouko only smiled roguishly in answer to those thoughts,

_'Eh, it's not a problem. I'll just need to get even stronger myself to deal with that, and so will everyone else if they want to survive. If I have to work harder, then so does the rest of you, otherwise you're all Witch chow...But if I am right, then what could be causing it in the first place?'_

Just when she thought it was all over, that was when Kyouko heard the hauntingly baleful howling of wolves in the distance.

"Oh you have got to be shitting me. _Two of them?_"

**X****th**

Hitomi Shizuki found herself awake late that night, once again a result of the nightmare she would periodically have. Every time it happened, she could never recall the exact details of it, but it never failed to thoroughly disconcert her and cause her to lose hours of precious sleep. Something vague and disturbing about fear and anxiety and overwhelming feelings of hopelessness. Possibly apocalyptic in nature, but Hitomi was always unable to remember the specifics.

That was why Hitomi was staring out her window at the darkened cityscape outside, which much more foreboding when its streets were all but abandoned during the witching hour.

That was why she saw her classmates walking around in the dead of night.

At first Hitomi almost did not believe it. She felt as if she had seen a ghost or something else that there was no proper explanation for.

_'What are Sayaka-chan and Madoka-chan doing out so late?'_

Her thoughts were an incoherent blur, fatigued from a lack of sleep and the stress of the old recurring nightmare.

_'What is going on here? Could they possibly be behind the- no, it's not possible. That's just ridiculous. I really must be sleep deprived if I can entertain the thought that they might...yeah. No.'Really, it's none of my business. What they do in the middle of the night when they're with each other when all by themselves is up to them. It can't be anything too serious, they're good girls...'_

But still...still...still she wondered about it all, about the mystery behind Madoka Kaname's and Sayaka Miki's midnight stroll and all of the dangerous and forbidden implications that it had.

…Hitomi was unable to sleep well that night because no matter what she did she could not dispel the feeling that she was being watched.

**X****th**

The evening news buzzed loudly on the wide screen of the television as the concerned newscasters highlighted the top story of the day, which was unsurprisingly the latest influx in the recent wave of serial killings that plagued the city.

"My, my," A young woman with a regal appearance in a dress of high quality fabric and pleated skirts chuckled - almost inappropriately - as she forked a piece of her chocolate cake and brought it to her mouth, as if she actually found it all amusing. "So many murders as of late." She turned to regard her dark-haired companion at her side, who seemed to suffer from a spontaneous panic attack the instant she made eye contact.

"Hey, don't look at me. I swear that half of those aren't even mine."

"Oh, but of course I know that, my dear Kirika. I'd never suspect you even if I didn't know that is wasn't you. After all, it should be noted that these particular deaths do not fit your style at all. Some are too needlessly messy whereas others are far more concise than any of your preferred methods."

"Whoo! That's a relief!" The girl known as Kirika Kure breathed a sigh of relief that was ultimately short-lived as she once again found herself besieged by confusion. "Wait! Why was _I_worried again?"

The young lady smiled warm and beatifically in response. "It is because you have such a delicate and caring soul, obviously. Silly girl," A few moments of peace were had between the two friends until Oriko cut the silence with a question of her own, "By the way...may I ask you something, Kirika?"

"Yes, Oriko?"

"Tell me, who do you think might be responsible for all of these recent murders?"

Kirika seemed a little taken aback at first, but quickly composed her as best as she could manage. Which admittedly wasn't as well as she would have liked. "You're really asking what _I_think of all this?"

"Yes. You have an opinion of your own, just like everyone else does. I'd love to hear your own insight into this. So tell me, what sort of people are behind this?"

"Dunno. Probably some psycho who gets some seriously sick kicks from it, judging by how random the victims are and how they died. Boys, girls, women and men - no one is safe. But whadda I know? I ain't some forensics science-girl. I'm just guessing." Her shrug was almost comical the way it seemed so unintentionally exaggerated.

"Your guess is wrong. But it is also not as far from the truth as my words would imply that it is..."

Kirika seemed confounded. No surprise there, considering that Oriko always seemed above normal human beings ever since she accepted her Contract with the Incubators. Still, Kirika sometimes wished that Oriko would be a little more up front about the things that she knew and saw.

...But hey, not everyone can get their wish.

"Ummm...huh? Oriko, could you kinda explain that to me? I'm lost..."

"It is surprisingly simple, Kirika. What you need to know is this: There is not _one_ single culprit, but _two_independent entities." Oriko continued, "Both of the perpetrators are very perverse individuals, but for vastly different reasons. Both of them are highly experienced killers and incredibly dangerous in their own right. Both of them are also intensely interesting. And the both of them seem to be destined for a decisive confrontation if they continue on their respective paths."

"Sometimes your power makes me kinda jealous, y'know that?"

"Do not be. It is more of a burden than a gift. It is not something that I would want shared with others, but not out of any sentiments of greed. The weight of responsibility is a heavy one."

Kirika stretched her arms behind her head and stared absentmindedly into space. "So...what? What are we gonna do now, since you know who the murderers are and all that jazz?"

"We will do nothing, Kirika," Oriko simply replied, "It is not our business. If we do not interfere with them then we shall never get involved, for theirs is not ours to interrupt. This city is a host to many notable intertwining stories that are happening all at once, like a web of lives all woven together into an intricate mesh, and it is impossible for us to be players in _all_of those plots. In fact, it is preferable this way. There are more important troubles for us to be concerned with."

"So you're saying we should just keep on doing what we're doing."

"Certainly. This is our story, and that is theirs. Let us continue to work from the shadows as we have been doing unless fate decides a confrontation is inevitable."

"Alright." Kirika nodded, the hint of a glimmer of _something dangerous_dancing in her eyes.

**X****th**

_The sound of a bare palm gently smacking a sweaty cheek echoed through the run-down dorm room-_

"Wake up, buttercup, and smell the coffee, you little ray of sunshine, you! The chloroform _has_to have worn off by now, so I know you're just faking being asleep."

_The room clearly had not been used for ages-__  
><em>_In fact, the entire building had probably been abandoned for years-__  
><em>_-No one would ever know what was to happen-_

"Great. You actually are awake. Not that it would have made a difference anyway, but still. I have a _method_that I like to indulge in and I'm not into messing with tradition. You're probably thinking right now 'Why?' You're probably screaming it in your head for all I know, or you could just be mentally whispering it, but hey everyone's different and I don't judge."

_The room stunk. Badly-_

"Reason one, I'm hungry, it's nothing personal it's just the result of making lemonade from life's lemons, and I'd like for you to respect that decision.  
>Reason two, you've got it <em>going on<em>, so I sort of fell for you, but I especially like your pretty eyes. I could stare at them all night long. You know what they say, 'Jeepers creepers!' Heh. You ever hear of that song?  
>Oh, right, the duct tape. You can't talk now.<br>We'll fix that soon.  
>But back to business...<br>As I was saying: The number one reason I do this...is because it's **fucking **hilarious."

_The room reeked like a horrendous cross between a butchershop, a sewer, a used brothel room, and a morgue-__  
><em>_-The stench of sex and death._

"Don't get your undies all up in a bunch, when I'm all done with your brutalized, desiccated corpse I'll dump it off someplace where it will be easily found by someone. I'll even leave your ID with you so that the police know who you are, since it'd be impossible otherwise. I don't want to make a scene with a missing person case, because I could never do that to your parents. Don't worry, I'm not _that_cruel."

_...A slimy tongue wet with foul-smelling saliva ran over a mouthful of ferociously pointed fangs._

"I'll count down from twenty, and then that's when we'll kick this little party off, okay? That should be long enough for you in order to make peace with your God, right?

-And thus did the night begin in earnest.

**-Conclude-**

**ACT I – "ACPERIENCE"**

**.**

**-Start-**

**ACT II – "ATROCITY"**

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

===SHIT== - - - - - {{FAN}}

/thread


	11. -ARC II- Chapter VII: What They Saw

This is a story from long ago…

This is a story older than time itself…

This is a story that no one has heard…

This is a story that has been told again and again…

This is a pointless story, and yet it means everything…

Because this meaningless story is about the greatest of nameless heroes…

**.**

**- ] | [ -**

**.**

_He hurled himself from the top of the building and let the night overtake him. As he fell into what was so much like an ocean of darkness, faintly lit by ghostly, faded pinpricks of murky light and accentuated by the shadow-puppet silhouettes of the city, it all blurred together into a messy chiaroscuro of whooshing black and white. This impure night that could only exist here in a pocket of civilization threatened to swallow his falling form, to take what had been seemingly given to it._

_No such thing happened._

_He landed on his feet on the roof of a sedan with a crunch that resounded far in spite of the loud downpour of rain. His consciousness briefly flickered from the impact, even with his protective enhancements in place. He still gave silent thanks to the crushed car underneath him that had broken his fall had done that much for him._

_But he did not have the luxury to linger. Not even an instant later he was already once again in motion, running fast and far from his landing spot. He needed distance. Distance and time._

_Distance from where he was;_

_Distance that he needed to cross;_

_He needed to do it as fast as possible;_

_Fast as possible so that he may have enough time;_

_What he needed this time for he could puzzle out later;_

_All that mattered now and here was that he was going and gone._

_With his targets every little thing counted. A split second was an advantage that he absolutely needed to capitalize on. The risk, that infinitesimal margin of error, was merciless. It would not allow anything less._

_An apartment complex stood ahead, a decrepit shell of a building encircled within portable chain link fencing and slated for a demolition that would never arrive in a timely manner. In this district of city, a ghost town in anything but name, he had few options. It would have to do._

_The apartments were not ideal, but better than expected. The shadowy foyer alone was interspersed with support pillars and places to hide and reeked with the thick stench of building rot, stale alcohol, kerosene, and had likely been the site of a murder at some point in the past. Short of dousing himself with mud and dung this was the closest he was going to get scent cover. The building doubtlessly served as an oasis for the homeless and the drug-addled, as refuge and home for the unsavory elements of society._

_It was suited for him what he needed to do. Rather, it was him who suited the place. Dirty, necessary business deserved to be done in dirty, necessary places well out of sight of sensible society._

_His back to one of the beams, he shut his eyes and was greeted by a familiar, organic darkness. This partial regression into his private, self-contained world gave him comfort and focus, like a steady pulse. Breathing in a vaguely mediatory way he reached deeper into his self and brought to mind a single, powerful, easily recognizable image. In his hands there was sparking light, and his thought was rendered into reality - a gorgeous sword of gold and silvery finery that was very much out of place in this modern age, let alone in the lobby of a derelict apartment complex._

_Though the image was one of intimate familiarity it was still a process and a half to reproduce it. The creation of the sword was draining. It was not so serious that he could not bounce back from it and stabilize his condition, but he could not afford to waste any moment. But he had no choice. At his level it was the most accessible thing at his disposal. He had to make do with what he had, and be it an improvised battlefield of his choosing or drawing out a costly blade for the sake of accessibility and to take the risk of losing a much needed edge he would do so._

_At the very least he trusted in the sword, that memento and weapon. Whether this trust was well-placed given the situation remained to be seen._

_Sounds. Touchdown from leaping over the fence. New presence entered the building. Scratch that, presences. As anticipated, but no less troubling. A multiple vs. one conflict was still disadvantageous, triply so with these enemies. The scraping and stomping of feet on rough, patchy floor. A sign of confidence, in personal ability and the outcome of this hunt. A sign of carelessness – they have not located him yet. Something to exploit to the fullest, but the question was when, and how._

_Suddenly, the pillar exploded. Plaster flew in a horizontal arc like a crescent blade of dust. He had moved as soon as he felt the opportunity had arisen, as if he had operated on the middle ground that straddled both instinct and calculatory action. The sword in his hands was angled down, its sheen marred with bits of tile and slick, dark blood._

_He had made the first strike, and the gamble had paid off. His foe and the pillar he had hidden behind had been cleaved in two, at somewhere around what would have been neck-level for his slain target. It hadn't even had the chance to let out a death wail, it had been so caught off guard. An undeniable success for a no-fuss kill._

_Of course his luck would not hold._

_A bloodcurdling screech was the only warning he had. His back cracked from a sudden strike that hit him like a truck, and the too-beautiful sword was hurled out his grip like a shoe kicked away from a traffic accident. The blow suddenly sent him in motion and flying through the air, falling horizontally through the darkness of the apartment complex right into another pillar. He had somehow lucked out from receiving a broken back from the enemy's attack, but the impact into the beam architecture knocked him senseless._

_The enemy did not skip a beat. It closed the distance between them in a blink of an eye and brought its foot down on his leg. Hard. Noise in this space reverberated and echoed and seemed louder than it actually was, but even with that in mind the sound it made was still grotesquely loud. It sounded less like bone breaking and more like piles of silverware being smashed. Even in a situation as far divorced from reality as this one, this was a sound that went against expectations and would take witnesses aback._

_The gasp of pain and desperate grunting of his very-much human reaction that followed was far more appropriate for this violence._

_His enemy, a thing with a beastlike nature, stood above him, tensed and ready to deliver a killing strike. Its dead eyes glowed with madness and malice. Though the night was cold not a puff of fog billowed from its lips, even with its heavy, hungry panting. Breath an even temperature with the rest of the room blew across his face._

_These were his targets. These were vampires._

_Tension ran high, and something like adrenaline flooded his systems. Thought processes flared into overdrive as he stomped on a mental gas pedal, as he pictured the hammer of a gun slamming down, rifling his new mental image into being._

_Make it, he surely thought._

_Make it._

_Make it._

_Make it again and again._

_Make it some more._

_Make enough to kill._

_Flashes of energy sparked and lit up the air in the dark foyer. The crushing weight on his leg was gone, and with it the presence of the vampire. It bellowed another screech, only this one was tinged with animalistic suffering. It was the scream of one who had given themselves over to consuming power that had swallowed them whole and was now experiencing the sort of crippling fear and pain that resulted when faced with something capable of destroying their inhumanly powerful body._

_The scream had ceased, soon as it had been uttered. He composed himself once more and gazed into the darkness. Affixed to the wall across from him was the undead, stuck to the wall like a pinup in all parts of its body with more than a dozen silver-black blades. Gouged into popped-wide eyes, snarling mouth, forehead and face, vampirically enhanced legs and arms, torso, stomach, groin, their identical, cruciform shapes rose from the corpse like rows of bloodied headstones._

_Those were the Black Keys, and that had been his Full Trace._

_That then was the first time he had accomplished it by virtue of his own power. It was only a low-ranking weapon he had replicated multiple times at once, but it was still a feat in of itself to perform. A more complicated process would have been excruciating and result in failure at his current level. But he didn't concern himself with the mechanics of his deed. What mattered was that he had pulled it off in the first place, right when it mattered._

_It was done. The beasts were dead, the ones he had been initially hunting from that rooftop and their two remaining colleagues. For all intents and purposes the mission was a resounding success._

_He knew better. It was anything but. He was still too inexperienced, still too weak. Too much had rested on the whims of chance. He had gotten through that ordeal more on luck than skill, and it was awful luck by most standards. Not enough from his own resourcefulness and merits._

_Improvement was slow going on all fronts, some more than others. He needed to do more, to put himself through more, to reach levels where he would be good enough to do what he needed to do. He needed to get as much out of himself as possible. He needed this, this ongoing trial by fire. He had been kicked from the nest and told to fly, and whether he ended up as a bird or an Icarus remained to be seen. He needed more training, and there was only one way to get it._

_Still, the fact of the matter was that his objective had been achieved. The vampire's bodies were already crumbling away into foul, but harmless, ash. There was no need to linger any more in this place._

_He stood up from where he was downed and immediately crumpled under his own weight. Right. The injury. He did not need to pay any attention to it until now. That halfway mangled mess of a leg needed treatment, and soon. He was not a healer, though. He had neither the skill nor ability to fix himself up then and there._

_No matter, he surely thought when he scared up a length of old pipe and scrap cloth from the lobby's refuse and fashioned himself a makeshift splint held together with structural reinforcement, that could be saved for later. It was only his body, after all. If what he had was too brittle then he would just have to temper it into something stronger, something that could weather the pursuit of his goals._

_And if that wasn't enough he'd make it into something even stronger._

_He was, after all, only himself._

**.**

**- ] | [ -**

**.**

_Pick out any motel room from anywhere in the world and it would have been pretty much just like this one. It was unassuming, unremarkable. Dingy, conventional interior decoration, tables and bathroom and closet cluttered with the belongings of its current guest, a 'do not disturb' sign slapped onto the door to ensure privacy and keep away hypothetical housekeeping, and residual smells of eaten food not yet expunged by the ventilation system._

_This typical looking place was, for the moment, his home._

_He limped his way into the room. Soon he would have to report the kills to his affiliates. He could not live off of good deeds alone. Not in this reality._

_"Aren't you a fine mess?" a young woman with a thick burgundy raincoat, raven hair, shimmering azure blue eyes, and a complicated expression rife with unspoken emotion addressed him as soon as he had shut the door._

_"…You're here." He said simply, his tone even and weary. If it were not evident how exhausted he was that would have been an obtuse way to answer her._

_"You were the one who told me that you would be in town at this time," She replied._

_"I just felt like you should know," He said as he sat on the edge of the mattress, across from her. "It wasn't really a request. You're still the one who decided to drop in uninvited."_

_"Actually, I wished to talk to you about that," She shifted in her seat as she brought the subject up, "Why?"_

_"I don't really know why."_

_"You've said nothing these past two years. Why now?"_

_"I can't say." He shifted his stiff, bound leg. That much did not pass unnoticed by the young woman._

_"Damn it, look at you. You're hurt."_

_"I was going to fix that."_

_"As if you could," she retorted, "Since when could you ever?" The woman stood from the chair and edged in closer to the man in order to check over his bandaged leg. "How often do you get hurt doing this?"_

_"Often enough."_

_She let out a sigh. Just like her expression it too was heavy with the weight of many unvoiced thoughts and emotions. "Oh Emiya, what am I going to do with you? If it is this bad looking I might as well take care of it myself."_

_"If you go to this trouble-" he started to say._

_"Sorry, but after seeing this I'm not changing my mind. Who else can take care of you like I can? And no, don't you name any spiritual healers or other colleagues who you might know that are capable of doing a better bang-up job. I don't want to hear it."_

_"…If you insist this much I won't stop you," he said. He repositioned himself on the bed, so that his back was flat on top of the covers and his leg stuck out from over the edge._

_"Good. Even you would not refuse _this_ kind of help in your state." The woman said as she bent down to the broken limb. She ran her fingers over the dirty bandages wrapped around it to get a feel for the wound, heedless of the filth from the apartment and the man's own blood that had seeped into it. She touched a spur of snapped bone that poked from the wrong place. It felt strangely cold, and wiggled under her fingertips and rubbed into the raw flesh of the wound. A normal person would have shown some display of pain or, at the very least, discomfort. If the man had cringed or grimaced at all it had been too minute of a reaction to notice._

_He instead gazed dully to the side at the mirror on the wall on the other side of the bed. Light amber eyes set in a golden face crowned with pale red hair and a distinct lock of silver at the front looked back at him. The face he saw, with a vestigial hint of boyishness yet was hardened to a physical maturity past his actual years, was his own. He looked so very tired. But he could not rest easy. It was allowed of him. Not when there was so much more that needed to be done._

_Still, it seemed that, for the moment, this errand of his would have to wait. Right now he had a visitor to attend to, and she to him._

**.**

**- ] | [ -**

**.**

Homura woke late that night. She wiped at her hot forehead and her palm came from it damp with smeared droplets. Much of the sweat had evaporated while she was asleep, but most of it had instead went right into her bedsheets and left a sizable puddle in its wake.

The girl rubbed her eyes, vaguely miffed that happened. She blamed it on the dream. Homura was used to a bleak atmosphere and violence. She was used to grievous wounds and disconcerting horrors. That was all a natural part of her life, something to be expected and gotten used to. That was what it really meant to be Puella Magi.

Homura Akemi, however, had little experience with what she saw near the end. She was, at her core, still a girl, and one barely into the first steps of puberty. Of course she knew virtually nothing about those sorts of matters. It had been dispassionate and seemed an almost desperate way for humans to cling to one another, but what she saw was what she saw and that changed nothing.

Obviously, that dream was one that she had never seen before. That made sense. It was not hers in the first place. On another note, it was too vivid and coherent to be called a dream. It felt more like a memory. Surely that must have been what it was. While memories could sometimes end up in dreams and remembered dreams would in time become memories what she saw was an altogether different thing. That absolutely had to have been a recalled memory, and Homura had a feeling she knew the cause.

The question was, could she find it in herself to be composed if she had to face him? She had seen things, felt things, known things that she was not supposed to see, feel, or know. It would be difficult to work with him if worse came to worse.

Homura silently stepped into the room where she and her Familiar had set up that jury-rigged magic circle, that patchwork bastardization of thaumaturgical theory that should not work but actually sort of did. In the center of the chalky scribblings and surrounded by the component reagents the dream culprit sat. With his head down, his arms folded, and crossed legs he very much looked like he had drifted off to sleep.

Homura cautiously edged in closer, careful to keep some distance from the man. She knew that as a Ghost Liner he had no real usage for sleep, but he was using the circle as a means to recharge his energy, and was therefore in something of a dormant state. It was hard to comprehend, but at least she understood what basically went on with it and what it meant, to an extent. Either way, Homura did not wish to disturb his "rest," regardless of how it qualified as such.

His eyes were closed, shut but not squinted. His shoulders rose and fell in sync with his even, slow breathing. There was a small crack between his lips, and from it he periodically let out low, rumbling rhythmic snores. His sleeping expression was neutral and tranquil.

For the moment, Homura almost forgot the reason she had come to his own little spot. Seeing him like this, this person who had been called 'Emiya' in that memory, was somehow soothing. She still remembered what that face of his had seen and done, but at this time that didn't really matter to her.

Homura wondered what it was that he saw that could make a soul such as him look so much at ease.

Homura went back to bed and the rest of the night passed with no incident.

**.**

**- ] | [ -**

**.**

When morning came Homura and her Familiar had some time to themselves. She asked him when the opportunity arose, while skirting around the context for raising a question like that in the first place, if he dreamed of anything, he gave her a simple answer:

"Nothing."


	12. -ARC II- Chapter VIII: Protect Who?

_**The Xth Loop**_

_**-ACT II-**_

**Atrocity Everlasting**

* * *

><p><em>Protect Who?<em>

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**- ] | [ -**

**.**

"How much longer?"

_"Longer."_

"And how much longer is that supposed to be?"

"Longer than any stretch of time that would satisfy you."

Homura Akemi kept her eyes trained on the familiar, the nameless Ghost Liner that she had formed a contract with what seemed to be an eternity ago.

_'I use a bow, so you might as well call me Archer. One way or another you drew a Guardian of the balance, so consider it your reward for lucking out and gaming the system. That's what we call "keeping the tradition alive," '_ he had said back then.

The man, the self-referred Archer, was being stubborn. Or, it could be said, she was the one being stubborn. Either way, the situation that had come to pass involved a man and a young lady who mirrored each other's obstinance. He normally towered over her, but now she was the one who looked down on him. He sat cross legged, like a resting martial artist, or a contemplative yogi. However, there was no inner peace to be found in him, as there was no hint of submission one would expect from their positions. Not from their physical alignments, the girl who stood over him, and he who sat beneath her. Not from their roles, that of master and familiar. His eyes did not have the wily confidence he was known to have at times. At that moment, his eyes were hard steel, worthy of the color of his irises. The man meant to defy her, to top from the proverbial bottom, to make his stance known.

"I'll ask again, and you answer this time: how much more do I have to wait until you're at full capacity?"

With a frown on his face, Archer sighed. "That's the question of the day. You asked for once, so I'll tell you straight up. You're not a magus. You're just a magical girl. You have no talent for it, and even if it turns out you do I can be of no help. Our recent activity has left me considerably drained. This circle I produced, for circulating the mana in the air? I'd receive more nourishment collecting dust. It's not even my specialty, and it was set up in a poor environment. The mana trapped in this workshop is stagnant. I can take, but with that trait I might as well be a shark trying to live off filter feeding. This place has a remarkably poor affinity for living things."

Homura reflexively clenched her fist, though she said nothing and betrayed none of the emotion he stirred.

"If you could manipulate this place's field, I'd whistle a different tune. But, you can't. On top of that our contract is weak. As it stands now I give more than I take.

"I'll be honest," Archer said, "I'm amazed we even came this far."

"The problem is that I'm not a magus?" Homura asked.

"The problem is that you're a magical girl, so same thing." Archer replied. "An apple can never become an orange, no matter how much it envies it."

"So, if I want to use you again any time soon, I should take different measures."

"Yes. You should take this more seriously."

"I have been taking this seriously!" Homura snapped, "I've not wavered from my goal once."

"Even so, we've been playing house and trying to live like we've merely been given a second chance." Homura's school life, his trips to town, Archer's words damned the both of them. "Normal life is worth protecting, but if you want to have it both ways then you need the ability to balance the two aspects. Right now, our combined efforts do not have the means to carry on as we see fit."

"I do not intend to let you sit around and waste away, recovering at a snail's pace. What can be done?" Homura asked.

"We've gone over this before," Archer said matter of factly, "I doubt we can strengthen the contract, so have me replenish my energy directly."

Homura ignored the implications of the former statement and zeroed in on the latter. "So I make you kill others and feed on their souls."

"I haven't degraded to the level of a lesser spirit just yet. I can still take lives with this much. There's plenty of bad people in this town, so it's fine, right? All I would need to do is receive the order." Archer replied.

There was something in his word choices, his tone, that gave Homura pause. He was her familiar. Of course he would follow her plans. Their's was also intended to be a partnership, albeit one not as transparent as it could have been, so that was another aspect of the shared dynamic to consider. It was agreed upon that they would do what they thought was best.

So if that was clearly the best course of action to take, why did it feel like he was testing her?

"What are you saying, Archer?"

"Me? Just stating the obvious."

"That's a half-truth. _What would you have me do_?"

"You should_ choose_." Archer said, simply.

"Whether to have you stand by, or have you take action to restore your power?"

"Whether you act as a magical girl or a magus, I mean."

Homura narrowed her eyes at that. "You said that I couldn't become a magus."

"Correct. You can never become one, in body or in spirit. You can, however, choose to think a little more like one, if it can help you out."

Homura had little patience for his words, though there was advice in there she could take away from it. "What was that about apples not being oranges, now?"

"That remains true. It is, however, possible for apples to take on the flavors and scents of oranges if prepared in a certain way."

At Archer's words, Homura considered her options. "Does it even matter if you can decide whether or not to listen to what I say?" she asked another question of her familiar.

"I may be at liberty to do what I want, but at the end of the day you still have an authority over me. As long as a path between us exists you will have some power to exert over me." Archer gave an honest, stern reply, "What you should remember is that for each and every action there is an equal, opposite reaction."

"Let me ask you this, then: _What do you want to do_?" Homura asked.

"It's difficult and time consuming," Archer said, "but if I wait like this I can eventually reach stability enough for me to use my magecraft at will. I'd like to avoid taking innocent lives if I can help it."

"So you don't want the lives of those uninvolved on your conscious, so you'd rather I tell you to do it and be the one pulling the trigger instead."

Archer's visage tightened at that. "I'll do what it takes, regardless of my opinion, whether I'm told to or not."

"Do you all of a sudden think I won't do the same? I have my own share of sin, and I'll keep at it until I get what I want."

Still seated in the thaumaturgic circle, Archer crossed his arms. "Shooting former allies because out of mercy or because they turn on you and stealing from the underworld is different from this. This is a different kind of red you'd stain yourself with."

"If you're so concerned with me then why not take it on yourself and leave my involvement out of this?"

"Did we not give our word that we would work together on this for as long as we could continue to do so?" Archer asked, "Measures should be discussed before they are taken."

"This is going in circles," Homura groaned, fed up, "Don't you get it? I'll kill a hundred gangsters myself if that would give me a chance to save Madoka. The fact that you're willing to do it for me saves me time. I understand that I need to change up my tactics now that I have you in tow, but don't act like you're above it all. You have swords to spare, Bowman. Use them. The Witches will keep coming until the promised day arrives."

"Then..."

"Get out of there and restore your prana. Do what it takes." Homura ordered him.

Archer had no pride to spare for this development. As he said, his personal feelings on this meant little to him. Even if he took issue with Homura, he could not defy direct orders from his master. He knew that this was needed if Homura meant to utilize him as the asset he was. He could voice no objections in that regard. This did not mean that it wasn't an unpleasant business. Archer and Homura had decided that the lives of select others were forfeit when weighed against their objective.

For a single moment, he pondered which concept was a heavier burden to bear: the sacrifice of many for many more, or the sacrifice of many for the one.

_Looks like you've finally begun to take this seriously, Homura Akemi._ Archer thought long and hard on this to himself as he leaped into the twilight-marred sky.

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

**- ] | [ -**

**.**

At that moment, it dawned on Homura that Archer was the type of man who got cranky when he was hungry.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

_Since I didn't want to rewrite the thing from scratch there will also be some, not too many, slight retcons. I'll inform you about these as they become relevant._


End file.
